The Dark Mind
by Sub-Zero879
Summary: -Old- Instead of the killing curse reflecting, it caused Voldemort's mind to enter Harry's. Watch as Tom grows up as the would be Harry. Dark.
1. The Merge

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to miss what's-her-face, not me.

The prologue is always the shortest chapter I write. 10 thousand words is my average for chapters.

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"Oh God, no! Please don't!" A woman's scream shouts into the night. "He's just a child for Merlin's sake! Kill me instead!" The woman is relatively attractive. Her fearful green eyes are alert and wild. She is shielding a child from something. 

A cloaked man is staring at her. His face isn't radiating hatred. It isn't even showing madness. It is a clam, calculating look: almost as if he is considering her offer. It doesn't take long before his eyes snap back up to her. In a tone that, while not cold, isn't friendly, he says, "I am not here to kill you. Please stand aside and leave. Find a new husband and a new life. Have another child and find happiness in this fading country. If not, you will be struck down with your child. Your determination will solve nothing." His tone is almost sympathetic but no where near the level of changing his mind. It is almost as if he cares although heartless.

The woman closes her eyes, the offer being tempting enough to consider. More tears fall from her eyes as she becomes inclined to listen. She opens her striking emerald eyes and turns to face her wailing son. Her eyes soften slightly and she smiles. She turns back to her executer and says, "I will never abandon my child. Kill me if you must, but I will always protect him, Voldemort." She says the name unflinching, just as her husband did. Accepting death brings a clarity and fearlessness known only to a select few.

The cloaked man now known as Voldemort doesn't change from his calm calculating look. No emotions of frustration or anger cross his snake-like features. He says to her gently, "I will not beg you to move. I feel oddly connect to you for a unique reason. It's almost as if Severus has hexed me." The woman's eyes widened in shock upon hearing the name of her childhood friend. Voldemort did not smirk or grin with satisfactory like most twisted people do when they reveal hidden knowledge. He kept his same look. "I see you are as familiar with him as he says. He has constantly begged me to spare you. He expresses love for you every time I mention the problem of you being alive with my only chance of defeat. He is one of the best men in my command, and for that I am trying to honor his wishes. Please step aside, Miss Potter."

The woman identified as Miss Potter closed her eyes again, although not for the same reason. Her face shows concentration as she mutters a spell quickly. The spell is too quiet to be heard by Voldemort, but he can feel the power it is building. One can not become as powerful as him and not be able to notice the intent of a spell. He notices that it is not offensive, as the magic isn't reaching out to him nor is it threatening. It shows the traits of a defensive spell. Knowing that he can penetrate any defensive spell with the killing curse, he does not worry too much about it. What he notices next is that the spell is reaching out the baby he came to eliminate.

With a sigh, Voldemort did what he did best, "_Avada Kedavra!_" Miss Potter took a jet of sickly green light to the heart. She died before the eyes of her barely one year old son. The baby looked on curiously as the woman he just learned to call mama fell to the floor with a flash of lights. For reasons he didn't understand, he felt cold inside. Unfamiliar with this feeling of coldness, he cried.

Voldemort approached the baby. The only evidence that he wasn't in his right mind was when he explained everything to a baby that could never understand. "I am not sorry that you have to die so young. You see, if you live, you will be the one who kills me. Self-preservation is the second strongest instinct we have. If you were older you would be under the influence of this instinct and try fighting me right now. However, I am sorry that your mother and father had to die. They were the casualties of war, just as you are. Good bye, young Harry Potter... _Avada Kedavra._" The green jet once again appeared from the wand. It shot straight into the forehead of the baby.

A cry suddenly ripped through the night, and it wasn't just the child's. Voldemort also cried out in pain. Something wasn't right. He felt something tugging at his soul. He fought against the tug as best he could. Figuring it was the babies fault in someway, he increased the curse's power. This proved to be his undoing as the tug violently increased in strength. In the final seconds as his fractured soul was torn out of the body, he realized what was happening. It was his curse being reflected back at him. His soul was finally ripped away and he also collapsed. There wasn't a sound after that. The baby too had gone silent.

Voldemort was incorrect in his final thoughts. The curse wasn't being reflected back to him. In fact, it was connect him to the young Harry Potter. Miss Potter realized that she did not have the time or knowledge to stop the killing curse from affecting her child. She did a basic merging charm. However, the charm was left wanting as she was killed before it ended. She had finished the mind merging part, but not the body merging. Her reason for the merging charm was because it was the only spell that can not only stop any spell, but also reflect any. The ritual of merging is meant to keep the afflicted protected from any harm, and for the spell to know who to merge to, it merges the afflicted to the first to cast a spell on it. A quick summary of what happened is the killing curse reflected, but Voldemort's mind is now inside of the baby.

Voldemort couldn't open his eyes. This worried him, as he knows that he was just hit by the killing curse. Before he could think about it more, he felt something press against his mind, like Legilimency. With his superior mind and mastered Occlumency, he kept the other mind from entering. Eventually the other mind became tired from its repetitive attempts on intrusion and finally stopped altogether. Voldemort, relieved that the intrusion ended, lowered his shields and tried to open his eyes again. This time, it worked.

He could see the ceiling of the house he was just in. Sitting up, he noticed that he no longer had a hood. He also noticed that he was_very_ high up. He almost gasped in shock when he saw two extremely tall giants apparently sleeping on the floor. They must be at least fifty feet tall! Suddenly his eyes took on a calculating look. One of the giants greatly resembles the woman he just killed and the other... "What the fuck?" The dark lord expressed his confusion. The other giant is him. With a flash he put everything together and looked down at himself. He was very chubby now and in a diaper. He looked at a mirror that was on the wall across from him and confirmed his suspicions. He was now a baby, and the two people on floor is the corpse of the woman he killed and... him.

He heard the cracks of apparation outside and began to think fast. With a boom, the front door was burst open, and wizards began to swarm the house. Voldemort was a smart man and very quick thinking. It was why he was a dark wizard for so long and had so many followers. He did the first thing he could think of that would allow him to live. He cried.

Dumbledore and his order swarmed the Potter's hideaway. His heart broke when he saw the corpse of James Potter. Not allowing himself to mourn just yet, he rushed into the master bedroom, where he heard a child crying. He walked in to see Lily Potter also dead. He let his sorrow fall into rage against his once pupil. As he reached to pick up the crying baby, he noticed one more corpse. Voldemort was also dead. His rage flared once more before burnt out, much like a gasoline fire. He picked up the baby and handed it to Minerva.

He took off his glasses and sat down into a chair. He wiped his eyes and whispered out to the observant order members, "Voldemort is dead, killed by Harry Potter, the last member of the Potter family. Full soldier funeral honors shall be performed for James and Lily Potter, the two that gave their live to protect the hero. We shall now go to inform the Prime Minister." He put on his spectacles and stood strongly, trying to stay strong in front of his followers. However, his face showed the pain he was in for losing two very close friends.

Minerva grabbed Albus's hand with her free one, forcing him to face her, "Albus, honey, everything will be okay now."

The once strong wizard looked at his secret wife, "I know, dear, it's just hard. I spent seven years awarding one every week and punishing the other just as often. Somehow they both weeded their way into my heart." He gently removed Minerva's grip and walked out the door.

In the main room, Remus was kneeling next to James's corpse. He looked up at the approaching Dumbledore with tear filled eyes full of rage, "It was the rat! Sirius would never do this, even under the most excruciating torture. James always trusted the rat more than a drunk Sirius."

Dumbledore put his hand on the Marauder's shoulder, "He will be punished accordingly." The world's current most famous wizard will make sure of that.

Voldemort look on at the scene with calculating eyes, although they could easily be misread as observant eyes. _So the Order is as smart as I assumed. They guessed the squealer first try. I'll need to be careful of revealing myself when near them. I can't contact my followers in this body. I will have to wait it out and look to the support of my true followers when the time is right._

Dumbledore looked at the baby 'Harry Potter' with sad eyes. "We will need to do something with our hero. His relatives seem like the best choice for now."

Andromeda Tonks spoke out, "You want him to grow in the world of muggles? Is that wise? It took my husband a great deal of time before he adjusted to the magical world."

Voldemort grew angry at that, but he didn't show it. How dare they try to take him to the people he hates most?! This is an outrage! He stopped his ranting suddenly. He noticed that he was now more impulsive. This baby's biology was messing with him. Emotions now influenced his thinking and it will take time to adjust to that. He sighed to himself and decided he should just 'go with the flow' and see what happens. If Dumbledore is decides to place him then it must be safe, right?

Albus nodded, "He will be fine there. Petunia already knows of the magical world, so when he comes of age there won't be too much of a shock. The publicity he will receive from his achievement today will make it unsafe. He will be a huge target to the remaining Death Eaters, and simple thugs will kidnap for a ransom that the minister will be happy to pay. It will be best for him."

Voldemort shifted uncomfortably. He never even thought of the possibility of his Death Eaters trying to kill him. He was glad and unhappy at the same time. He was glad that he controlled himself enough to allow the reasoning of Dumbledore to reach him but unhappy that his lack of control prevented him from thinking of that himself. It really will be hard trying to get back to his original control over his impulsive mind.

The next hour went by slowly as he was passed around from person to person so that they could get a look at their savior. Then he was carried to the ministry so that he can be on display as the world's savior. Then he went into the Order's hideout, somewhere that he planned on remembering. Then he was placed into a basket with a note and left on some doorstep. After a few minutes a woman who vaguely resembled a horse picked him up with surprise. He was placed inside while she read the note. He noticed with interest she gets as white as a sheet as she progresses farther down the letter. By the end, she looks ready to faint. He saw he glance at the door as if considering throwing him back out there.

With a depressed sigh she picked him up and got him a baby bottle. Voldemort's advanced mind allowed him to put together that the presence of a bottle meant that there was another baby here. She let him drink from the bottle with reluctance. Voldemort scowled against the bottle that was threatening to choke him. For a second he stops struggling when he notices how thirsty he truly is. Opening his mouth in defeat he allows the bottle to be crammed down his throat. Trying not to think of his times in the Wizard versions of collage when girls did this for him, not with bottles of course, he began to suck. The whitish substance left the tiny hole and he was forced to swallow it. Now Voldemort was by no means a prideful person, seeing as pride gets one killed, but this was pushing his limits. He swore to obliviate this memory when he was older.

The sound of the door opening stops Voldemort's drinking. A fat man walks in with an obese baby in his arms. He looks at Voldemort with shock before looking at his wife with curiosity. He says, "Petunia, what is the meaning of this? Who is this?"

Petunia gave a sniff and Voldemort noticed that she was crying, "My sister is dead. This is her son. We are going to be taking care of him as well."

The fat man grew angry at that, "We don't need some asylum girl's child when we have our own to raise! We are bringing that thing to the orphanage!"

Voldemort grew dark, memories of the orphanage coming to mind. Red electricity began to circle his clenched fist before he regained control. He saw the fat man looking at him in shook before shaking his head, clearing think it was a trick of the light. Petunia stood her ground, "Vernon, dear, I will not let my sister's child grow up in some ruddy orphanage! We will raise him, and you will treat him like your son." Voldemort's respect for the woman raised a few notches.

The whale now identified as Vernon set down his other son before shouting, "Fine! We'll raise him, but I swear he will NOT be treated like my son!" With that he stormed out of the room. His out burst caused the other baby to begin crying. Voldemort was having enough problems as it is, so he cast a silencing charm around the crying baby. Petunia instantly knew that something was wrong when the crying suddenly stopped, but the flailing didn't, she looked at Voldemort with worry before scooping up the other baby and setting him down in the play pin. Seeing that she was suspecting him, Voldemort released the silencing spell. She also put Voldemort into the pin.

With a sigh of frustration, Voldemort got comfortable and began to prepare for a new life. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen because of this. Although Dumbledore, the world's current strongest wizard, said that this place will be safe. Dumbledore would never allow the world's 'savior' to be raised like a piece of dirt, right? Oh how wrong he was.

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Okay, my first Harry Potter story. This is going to be weird for me to write without the use of Japanese, so expect a Japanese character latter. Please enjoy. 

For the pairing, you guys decide. I'm thinking harem, but you can choose. No gay pairings.


	2. Best of Days, Worst of Days

Sorry if this isn't up to your standards, but try to enjoy anyway.

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Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was neither foolish nor arrogant. He was not overconfident and certainly not gullible. His extents of being cynical and merciless were only precautions. He never allowed himself to become attached to others and never biased his opinion based on someone else's opinion because that the other person may have lead to problems for him later. Voldemort had biased his opinion, and that led to his defeat. 

Voldemort had figured that Severus Snape, a Death Eater who not only proved to be loyal, but very trustworthy, deserved one granted request. That one request was spare Lily Potter. Voldemort was willing to grant that request, but he was not willing to risk his life attempting to honor it. Voldemort gave Lily a chance to escape and have a new life, she resisted. Instead of killing her right at the spot like he normally would, he tried to convince her. After refusing for the second time, he was obliged to finish her off as protection to himself. He didn't because he still felt that he owed that one request. From there, shit went down hill.

She had enough time to perform her own little spell, something that could easily be potentially dangerous. Voldemort never let himself get to 'potentially dangerous.' He finished her off from there. Just that little amount of time allowed her an unfinished spell that proved to be his undoing. Spell reflected, body transferred, secret identity, and new life were then all tossed into the fray in a matter of seconds.

All of this wrapped up into two conclusions in the mind of Voldemort. One, trusting can get you killed. Two, helping others can get you killed. He promised to never make those two mistakes again. In the ten years of the new life for Voldemort, those only took a short while to form. It was what came after that which he spent his time thinking of. A simple word described all of his desire on what he wanted to do when he rose to power once again: revenge.

He had plenty of knowledge from his life experiences, so he had no real need to focus on that. What he felt he needed to focus on was power. Not just power in magic. No, he could gain that from extensive training. Political, economic, and physical power where big things that were lacking in his last campaign. He would have had a much larger chance in overthrowing the light and establishing the dictatorship he wanted. What he also needed was control, which is similar yet just as important as power. If he had the ministry under control, they wouldn't have proven to be a problem.

After ten years of having time to think it over, he was sure he had an appropriate plan to follow and finally be able to succeed. He was confident that this plan would work, although he knew not to get too confident like the fool Grindelwald did. Voldemort decided to sit back patiently and subtly train and expand his magic reserves. He knew from experience that the ministry could only pick up a wizard or witches spell if they had a ministry registered wand. Because of that, he did the magically exhausting wandless spells that couldn't be seen by muggles. His favorite was compressing air.

At full power, Voldemort could compress air to a solid form, forming an almost clear ball that is around a foot thick, for around a minute. With his first attempt as a baby, he couldn't even make a liquid. Now, ten years later, he could make a slushy ball around two inches thick or a foot of water for a minute. If he kept up with his training, he should be at full power by his forth year in Hogwarts.

One might ask how compressed air can be useful, how can it be the powerful Dark Lord's favorite spell? It has two specific uses. The first is that one can cast the bubble head charm on ones self and compress all the air into a less taxing form, such as water, and watch your opponent fall unconscious due to lack of air. A side bonus to that way is that sound requires air to travel through, so only powerful wizards who could silently cast spells would be able to live through that. The second use is that anything compressed needs to be decompressed. As one may guess, compressing air takes much force. If that force is released, the results would be devastating. One as powerful as Voldemort could compress air into a ball only a centimeter thick and have the atoms inside stuck at absolute zero movement. The result is that being released is that of an invisible grenade explosion.

As the Air Compression helped his plan for the future, a girl around the age of ten set it back a few steps. A simple word started a week of troubled nights and distracted days, something that Voldemort is _very_ unfamiliar with. The simple yet complex word is friends. It started when Voldemort was in the park practicing his Air Compression.

It was the afternoon, and the sun had begun its leisure decent down to the horizon, casting a golden tint to the landscape of the park. The shadows of trees extended across in rows, forming columns of darkness. There was one part of the park, however, that was sheltered by the trees yet not obscured by the darkness. It was a secluded section where one could go without being disturbed. It was at this spot that a boy sat. He looked to be around ten years old. His hair was as black as the shadows stretching around him. His eyes a striking green, focused and unblinking as the concentrated on what he was working on.

Voldemort pumped out much of his tiny reserve of magic into the air and forced it down in between his hands. His arms trembled at the force he was exerting. The barely noticeable ball was not to his satisfaction. As he was about to release it, he heard a high pitched little voice, "What's that in your hand?"

Voldemort glanced to his left to see a young girl standing their staring at his hands intently with curious eyes. "Your imagination," and with that he slowly released it, as to not cause an explosion. He showed her his empty hands and said gently, "And now it's gone."

The girl smiled and looked up to Voldemort's face, "You're funny. My name's Susan. What's yours?" She sat down next to him, on the bench that while secluded, has an open and peaceful feel to it.

Voldemort got the calm, calculating look to him as he replied, "Harry." He noticed something off to her, something familiar. With a small scan, he found we might be magic, although it was too small for him to be certain.

The girl took a thoughtful look to herself, as if in the middle of critical thinking. After a few seconds she snapped out of it and went back to staring at him. Voldemort didn't feel like a young girl like her should stop him from his training. He went back to compressing and releasing air. After a few goes at it, the girl suddenly said, "That's why people call you a freak." Voldemort didn't look at her. "You do that with your hands, and you only come out of your house once a week, only to do that."

Voldemort didn't look up, but responded anyways, "If you think I'm a freak then why are you here?" It was more out of bored curiosity than ashamed of being called a freak.

"Oh I don't think you're a freak, I think you're interesting."

The curiosity bumped up a spot, but he didn't stop the compression, "How so?"

"Every time I see you do that I think of magic." A clap rewarded that. Voldemort briefly lost control over the air causing a weak explosion in his hands. His right hand whip-lashed and smacked into the bench, causing him much pain and apparently a few splinters. Susan jerked upright and looked at him in shock.

Voldemort causally rolled off the pain and began the process of removing the splinters, "Aren't you a little too old to be thinking of magic?" At a particularly large piece of wood, he winced slightly.

Susan shook her head, trying to understand what just happened. Seeing the casual way he's acting, she decided it couldn't have been important. Realizing he asked a question, she answered him, "Nope! You see I know that there is magic out there. There's a whole magical world out there, just waiting to be explored."

Voldemort took out the last splinter and wrapped his bleeding hand with a strip of his shirt. Not entirely sure if it was just a vivid imagination or if she was speaking of the actually magical world and definitely sure he didn't want risk her knowing that he knows about it, he says, "If there is a whole world, how is it we have a map of the entire Earth and have found no trace of this magical world?"

Susan put on a big, childish grin, "It's hiding of course. They don't want normal people to find them so they use magical spells to hide." She spoke with such confidence that it was hard for him not to believe that she was speaking the truth.

Voldemort flexed his hand once before trying the compression again, this time just holding it in for as long as possible. He asked her, "Have you found this magical world?"

"Nope, but my Auntie goes to work there." He wasn't prepared for that.

Voldemort was genuinely curious now as to if this girl was part of the magical community or not. "What's your Aunt's name?"

Susan opened her mouth but was interrupted as a woman came up to them. The sight of the woman almost made Voldemort lose control of the air again. Amelia Bones approached the two on the bench. "Susan, there you are! What are you doing back here? I thought I told you to stay where I can... see... you." She got distracted and faltered when she caught sight of Voldemort with the air in his hand.

Voldemort quickly eased out the air, careful to not make too much noise with it. It ended as a light breeze sound. He did the first thing he could think of when he saw the only person he figured had sense in them from the ministry, he stuck out his hand, "Hi, I'm Harry." In his ten years of new life, he has learned how to fake a child's enthusiasm very well.

Amelia shook her heard and focused again. She shook Voldemort's hand and said, "Hello, I'm Amelia." She turned to Susan _almost_ excitedly and said, "We are leaving in five minutes, be ready to leave then." With that, she left with a slight spring in her steps.

Susan shook her head in confusion, "She _never_ gives a heads up on when we are about to leave. I think work is starting to get to Auntie." Voldemort studied her carefully and saw what he couldn't see before, a hidden intelligence. If he had to guess, he would say that she'll be sorted into Ravenclaw.

Trying to hold the conversation, and genuinely curious, Voldemort asked, "By the looks of it, you are living with your aunt. What happened to your parents?" He saw her wince and he realized that he must have hit a sore spot. "You don't have to tell me."

"No, it happened before I could remember them. Death Eater attack. They must have felt it was the best way to hurt my Auntie at the time, which I guess it was."

Voldemort vowed to talk to his followers when he gets a chance about attacking without orders. Knowing that he had to keep up his 'ignorant' disguise, he asked, "What is a Death Eater?"

"Bad men who follow a bad person. They kill people wherever they go, despite the person they follow is dead. Auntie says that they're weakening, but they're not dead just yet."

"Who's the leader?" This was more of a test to see if she had guts or not.

She passed with flying colors, "Lord Voldemort, but don't go around saying his name. It's a taboo to most people. The only people I've seen that are brave enough to say his name is Dumbledore, a great wizard, and Auntie. Everyone else flinches and uses his fake name."

"I see." It was nice to know that his name didn't lose its effect through time. After a few seconds of silence, Voldemort said, "I do believe it has been five minutes."

Susan frowned for a second, before sticking out her hand, "Let's be friends."

Voldemort glanced at the hand and asked with genuine curiosity, "Why?"

Susan blew off the normally rude reply the way only oblivious children can. Susan smiled and happily said, "Because I think there is more to you than you're revealing. I would like to know the real you."

A simple rule for the feigned life of Voldemort was to never get borderline dangerous. That was exactly where the conversation was heading, but he couldn't stop now, not when the conversation was so close to something he never understood before. "And what would knowing the real me do for you later?"

"Does everything you do have to benefit you in some way?" Susan asked with her face scrunched up in thought. "I guess having friends make you happy." Her eyes suddenly shot open when she realized what he was saying. "You've never had a friend before, have you?"

Susan hit the source of the problem and she knew it. Voldemort thought over both his old and new life and found it to be true. Sure, he had his followers, but the closest thing he had to a friend was Slughorn, and that was nothing more than the man trying to boost his fame. He shook his head, admitting that no where in his two lives had he had a friend. Susan put a determined look on her young face as she more forcefully stuck out her hand and said, "I'm Susan Bones, and I'm going to be you're first friend."

Voldemort timidly shook her hand and said, "I'm Harry Potter. It is nice meeting you, Susan Bones." After a few seconds of awkward silence, he asked, "So what do friends do?"

Susan thought about it for a bit before she just listed off things. "Well friends hang out, do things together, share secrets... The just have fun together."

Voldemort laughed to himself on the prospect of sharing secrets, 'I'm actually a dark lord who has more horcruxes than friends. I like killing people and one day hope to rule Britain. Oh, I also command the army that killed your parents.' Let's see where that would end. Deciding that he should get back to spending the last of his magical energy before leaving to his 'relatives,' and also that Susan shouldn't be around when he did so, he said, "You really should get back to your aunt."

Susan jerked, realizing that he was right and that she was late. She stood up and began to hurry back to her aunt. Just before she went out of sight, she called out, "I hope to see you soon." With that, she was gone.

Voldemort shook his head, not sure what to think with his new 'friendship' with Miss Bones. He put his hands together one last time and thrust the last of his magic reserve between them. He watched with curiosity as the ball became bigger than before. Four inches of slush was now gently hovering in between. There are two ways to push out a lot of magic. One is force magic. That's when a spell is big but quick to exhaust. The other is stamina magic. That was when a spell has less power but one can hold it for longer. When one becomes skilled enough they can choose how they want to push it out. Voldemort's current force magic was six inches of slush for ten seconds, yet this four inch was having the same exhaustion rate as his last two inch. Intrigued, he tried to see if he really could hold it for the whole minute.

Voldemort walked back to Number 4, Privet Drive silent and distracted. Total time of four inched slush was one minute and fifteen seconds. Somehow, his reserves doubled in size within a day. He pondered on how that could happen as he rounded the corner of Private Drive. A voice inside Voldemort's head spoke up, _so, what do you think of this Susan Bones person?_

_So you finally woke up, Harry, _Voldemort commented, temporarily letting go of the topic of bigger magic reserves. The mind that Voldemort's Occlumency had blocked out when he merged with baby Harry was actually Harry's mind. Since the two minds weren't merged, Harry's grew and developed into a separate entry that now shares the body. Since Voldemort's mind was the stronger of the two at the time, he was the one who became in control. The developing body adjusted and adapted from there, solidifying Voldemort as the ruling entry of Harry's body. However, as in cases with Schizophrenia, Voldemort can still hear the thoughts of Harry.

There was also a link that connected the two minds. This link is what allowed them to communicate, and it also allowed them to share emotions. As with all new things, it took awhile for the two to identify the emotions that spread across the link, and now, ten years later, they can just about identify every emotion that the other is feeling. Although Voldemort really had nothing to hide anymore, since he told the brief version of his life story last year, he appreciated the fact that Occlumency blocked the link while the shields were up.

Amusement trickled through the aforementioned link, _I was never asleep. I felt it would be better if I stayed silent and simply observed._ Another think about the link was that it allowed Harry to see what Voldemort saw, hear what he heard, ect... At times, Voldemort could even grant Harry control over the body temporarily.

_Then do you mind telling me why I am almost twice as strong?_ Voldemort asked, bringing up a topic that was very interesting to him. The last thing that's special about having a second entry in the body was that Harry practically was a twenty-four/seven medical scan. He was the overlord of the body's physique. This was something that Voldemort used to its full extent.

More amusement, _All in good time. For now I am very curious as to how you feel towards Miss Bones._ Voldemort reserved the right to say he corrupted the Harry Potter. The once innocent and curious child was now the mischievous and secretive boy. As proud as he was for defiling the world's 'Golden Boy,' he was growing very tiresome of Harry's habit of beating around the bush.

_I don't know what to feel. She says that we will be friends, something I have never had before. I don't know what to expect. Simple as that. Now why am I almost twice as strong?_ Voldemort let annoyance seep through from his side.

_Interesting... As for the power, you're little contact with Miss Bones seemed to have an influence on your magical core. It's pulsing at a rate almost 30 percent faster. As for power itself, I moved your limiters from 70 percent to 85 percent. As long as you don't get involved into any magic fights soon, you'll be fine._ A magical core is a representation of someone's current level of magic. Its color shows what emotion is influencing it. The rate it pulses is the rate it recovers. The size of it is the size of one's reserve.

Limiters are something found on everything. The reason why someone can lift five pounds many times and fifty pounds a few times is because each takes a certain percent of muscle usage. Limiters prevent someone from reaching 100 percent because that much muscle usage would cause lasting damage to the muscle. People who push past their limits do improve the most, but they must have a longer resting period for the body to repair the damage. Magic is no different. It is because of these limits that Voldemort didn't collapse into a coma from magic exhaustion after every training exercise, despite the fact that he used all of his reserve. He always had that extra bit that kept him conscious and moving.

Voldemort paused on the driveway at the Dursley's house. _30 percent faster? That's practically impossible._

_Which is why practically is a key word there. I can't explain why or how it began to pulse that fast, but you shouldn't complain. At this recovery rate, you should be back to max in two to four hours, depending on if you eat or not. I think this Susan woman is a keeper. If a five minute conversation did this much, I would like to see an hour one, _with that, Harry went silent, leaving Voldemort to his thoughts. Voldemort looked up at the darkening sky, wondering: could having friends truly make one stronger?

Deciding that he should get inside and start dinner before the Dursley's got hungry, he opened the door and made a beeline for the kitchen. He was fortunate as there was no one in there. He summoned basic ingredients and began to cook a simple, yet large, Italian dish. When the dinner was finished, Voldemort decided to humor Harry to see if he really could get his reserves back in two hours. He listened carefully for any sounds of the Dursley's. Hearing nothing, he conjured a plate and dished out a serving onto it. He wrapped it and shrunk it before pocketing it and setting the table.

Voldemort finished setting the table not a moment too soon as his Uncle Vernon walked waddled in. Judging by the fact that he still had his work coat on, it must have been a long day a work. He set down his suitcase and sat down, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. He glanced up and saw Voldemort looking at him. Vernon's beady little eyes narrowed and his voice took on a dangerous edge, "What are you looking at boy? Do something useful and dish out dinner!"

Voldemort didn't have time to move as Dudley, his 'cousin' walked in and asked hopefully, "Time for dinner already? Great! I'm starving." Voldemort took this opportunity to grab the dinner before his Vernon caught him standing around again.

Voldemort's 'Aunt' Petunia walked in. "We'll just eat up, Dudderkins._Harry_," she spat out the name, "Made a large meal for us, right _Harry_?" 'Harry' paused mid-step and gave a very curt nod. He piled on amounts of food people wouldn't normally eat at a buffet on each of their plates. The amount of food he made was large enough to easily feed eight people, and yet he dished all of it out to only three. He watched with disgust as they greedily shoveled it into their mouths, not once thinking of offering him some.

Dudley and Vernon both reminded him of starving pigs. The fork didn't seem to be able to bring the food to their mouths fast enough, so they both had lifted the plate to where it was almost touching their chins, occasionally taking I bite out of the meal itself. This of course caused the red sauce to smear around their face. They way they looked sparked memories of the few feeding vampires Voldemort had come across in his lifetime. The blood-crazed looks and the red smear perfectly matched the faces of Harry's relatives. Voldemort toyed around with the idea of how many feedings a day it would take for the Dursley's if they were vampires. He crushed the idea when he realized that vampires wouldn't even want to come near them.

A confused and disgusted voice asked, _I still don't see why you don't just slaughter them like you told me you used to. I mean they are supposed to be MY family, and they treat us, well you, which is like me, as if we were dirt or those house elves you spoke of._ Harry didn't like his relatives one bit. Voldemort has never done anything that should make them hate him; they just seemed to want to hate him.

Voldemort kept his calm, calculating look, even as he spoke of his greatest hatred, _For one, I'm used to muggles treating me this way. Another reason is the affect tormenting the muggles caused. Dumbledore knew I had 'bullied' the kids at the orphanage, so when I came back to Hogwarts to take up the teaching position, he refused. This caused me to hate and blame him, caused me to try to get revenge, and we both know how my 'revenge' ended. As for your question, I will get them back. Now isn't the time. I need to keep up this charade until I'm powerful enough to fight again._ It amazed Harry how one could speak so clearly about a subject that was so emotionally influential. Just that little speech revealed what made Voldemort... Voldemort, aside from the horcruxes.

Harry sighed, _still, I want them to suffer. I didn't go through these ten years of hell just to see them continue living their merry lives as fucking self-centered, gluttonous, lazy offspring of swine!_ There was some hard breathing following that.

Voldemort let curiosity seep through the link, _feeling better?_ A mental agreement and silence followed that.

Voldemort patiently waited for the Dursley's to finish eating, and he began to wash the dished the second they were done. If he was disgusted by the slopped food and drool on the plates, he didn't show it. He organized each dish into neat stacks and gently carried them to the cupboard. The second he was finished, Vernon shouted, "Boy! Get over here! Time for bed!" As Voldemort walked towards the stairs, he heard the jangle of keys as Harry's uncle unlocked the cupboard under the staircase.

Like a policeman pushing a criminal into the car, Vernon forced Voldemort into the cupboard. Voldemort extended himself as far as possible as he laid on the mattress and ignored the sound of the door being locked. After hearing the footsteps walking away, he pulled out his version of the meal. He enlarged the plate to where it was full size and placed a temporary warming charm on it, as wandless charms are always temporary. He removed and vanished the plastic cover to help erase traces of him eating. He conjured a fork and began to eat rapidly. When he was finished, he vanished the dirty plate and checked for any sign of spilt food. He was very curious to see if he really would get his reserves back in two hours instead of the usual three.

The increased pulsing rate was particularly interesting to Voldemort. It's rare to have its rate of pulses change. Voldemort's pulsing, from the birth of Tom Riddle to before the meeting in the park, had remained the same. It never naturally changed without reason. Of course, there were potions and charms that could temporarily speed up the rate, although the side affects made it a last resort thing. The only time it would naturally change was when a life was in constant need of magic refillment. The body would then speed it up slightly and would gradually revert back to the original when the constant need lessoned. Voldemort, however, had a distinct feeling that this increase would not be leaving anytime soon.

As Voldemort stared at the dusty ceiling, only slightly illuminated from the light of the TV under the door, he began to ponder on the events in the park. First and foremost, he had let himself into 'borderline dangerous,' something that he was sure would come back to bite him in the ass. Second was _why_ he allowed himself get that far. This Susan, niece of the Amelia Bones, had turned on his curiosity and thirst for knowledge; although that wasn't all she did. She asked if everything needed to be beneficial. Why would someone do something that _wasn't_ beneficial? Voldemort noticed that she did seem determined for the whole 'friends' process.

Friends. This brought a whole new list of questions for Voldemort. By never having a true friend before, Voldemort has been left ignorant of the feeling of friendship. Susan made it seem as the most common thing in the world, and this didn't sit well with Voldemort. He wondered why no one had ever offered to be his friends before and why he never noticed it. As he brooded over this he lost track of time.

_Hey, dark and gloomy! Yes you. It's been two hours. Check out your reserves,_ the amused voice of Harry broke Voldemort out of his musings. Voldemort was surprised that he actually spent the last two hours thinking about friendship. He reached and felt his magical core and felt it more powerful than ever. If anyone could see into the lurid cupboard they would see England's most powerful Dark Lord's eyes widen slightly. It was rare to ever see his visage change in the slightest, as he never once allowing himself a moment's weakness. He closed his eyes and shook his head, astounded at such a revelation. Never once had he seen such a power increase.

Voldemort had never left a finding untouched in the war. A new place would be a new hideout. A new weapon would be a new turning point in the war. A new fact would be a new advantage against the enemy. He always found a way to use things to benefit him. It was one of the reasons why he had such difficulties assimilating friendship, something that wasn't meant to benefit one person, into his mind. When he discovered this new power for recovery, he planned to use it to its full potential. He could now practice more often and speed up in the expanding of his reserves. With this new method he could be at his old strength by second year in Hogwarts. This made him satisfied, but he knew better than to get overconfident. Too many Dark Lords had made too many mistakes. If one doesn't, or can't, learn from their mistake, they could certainly learn from others mistakes. Voldemort had learned and was very efficient in utilizing what he had learned.

Deciding that he didn't feel like extending exercises with magic, he did a force magic version of Air Compression. He saw to his satisfaction a solid ball around a centimeter in diameter. The atoms weren't at absolute zero movement, but it was solid.

As he prepared to fall asleep, Voldemort's thoughts once again drifted back to friendship. He decided to visit the park the next day to see if Susan could help answer at least _some_ of the questions. He flipped over on the aged mattress and ignored the miasma of dust that invaded and coated his lungs. Years of this life style allowed him to completely ignore the cough reflex. He wanted to get the problem out of his mind so he broke it down into little steps on how to solve it. Identify, define, experience, and reflect on the experience of friendship. He hoped it would be that simple, but he knew better than to count on such a simple plan. With that out of his mind, he returned into the nightmares of his past.

* * *

It was official: the next day was the worst day of Voldemort's life with the Dursley's. It didn't have a chance to _start_ normally. From morning to night time the day was lamentable. Not even thoughts of increased magical core could uplift his morose mood. It was as if the gods had chosen him as the 'scapegoat of the day.' 

Voldemort groaned in agony as the he forced the last of his strength to lift himself up one last time. With a moan of pain and satisfaction, he allowed himself to collapse on the bench. He let out a miserable cough that sounded gurgled, like there was a liquid blocking it. His breath came out in wheezes as he fought to stay conscious. He was willing to bet money that not only were his ribs broken, one had punctured his lung. Dark liquid, illuminated in the moonlight as crimson, oozed down his arm where it began to pool on the bench. His shoulder had numbed in the freezing weather, something he was glad for. He shivered as the icy wind fluttered through the rags that were once clothing. His fingers wouldn't bend, showing that even they had given the last of their strength.

Voldemort curled himself into a ball, shivering in pain and coldness. The warm blood seemed to warm him up slightly, but the wind dried it up before he could actually enjoy the warmth. The puddle that was slowly collecting around him was beginning to worry him. He was losing too much blood, and he didn't have enough magic left to heal himself. "Damn you... Lestrange," he spat out before finally succumbing to the blissful unconsciousness. His body went slack, relieved of feeling the pain.

Where had it all gone wrong? How did the man considered to be the greatest Dark Lord become defeated? It all started earlier that day when the sun was just peaking over the horizon. Voldemort was still sleeping, not used to being allowed out until eight o'clock. To say he was surprised when he was grabbed by the throat and tossed into the sofa would be an understatement.

With eyes searching wildly, Voldemort tried to find his assailant. Colliding against the couch knocked the wind out of him. He tried to force the air back in, but before he had the chance, two large hands latched onto his throat once again, suffocating the life out of him. The two emeralds finally found their target, Uncle Vernon. The man looked enraged, his face a unique purple color. Although Voldemort noticed something else in the face: glee.

A bulky fist slammed against the side of Voldemort's face, bringing blinding pain and a spark of resentment. The alluring taste of copper began to fill his mouth, but he knew better than to spit it out. That would cause a worse beating for 'staining the carpet,' so Voldemort swallowed it and ignoring the churning of his stomach. He then was lifted by the collar of his shirt and tossed from the family room onto the kitchen floor.

Voldemort had to give Vernon some credit. For someone being so fat, he certainly had strength. After all, he did work with construction. Ignoring the stinging pain on his elbows from landing on the hard, he began to get back up. Once standing proudly again, Voldemort began to look for the cause of the commotion this morning. His eyes caught site of Petunia who was standing in front of the cupboard holding a plate. Her face was sour, lips pursed, eyes squinting in disgust. Voldemort was roughly shoved forward and barely caught himself from following over.

Vernon forced Voldemort's head down until it was only centimeters above the offending object. He shouted in fury, with spit landing on the back of Voldemort's head, "Do you see what that _IS,_ boy?!" Apparently there was a smudge of red sauce left on the plate. "Think you can slack in your duties, boy?! HUH?!" The hand holding his head suddenly exerted force, causing Voldemort's head to hit the plate nose first. There was a shattering sound and searing pain for Voldemort.

Voldemort landed on the ground clutching his nose, hissing in pain. He saw that his face had broken the plate and now some shards were impaled into his cheek and nose. Before he had time to recover, a foot hooked him under the arm, sending him into the counter. The dull whack of the back of his into the wood was barely anything compared to the rest of his injuries, and he easily shook it off. Vernon's harsh voice yelled out, "Now pick up the pieces and I expect _you_ to pay of the damage!" Vernon stormed out of the room, Petunia following behind unable to glance at her downed nephew.

Voldemort rubbed his head, trying to sooth the pain. Once the pain was at manageable levels, he began to pick up the shards of the plate. Thinking ahead, Voldemort repaired the plate and shrunk it. After placing it in his pocket, he began to cook breakfast.

That breakfast was eggs, beacon, and toast. Half-way through cooking the beacon, a glob of grease crackled before shooting up and splattering on Voldemort's arm. He hissed in pain before vanishing the grease and hasting a burn healing spell. When the spell finished, he stumbled for a second. The burn healing spell was pretty taxing. If he had to guess, he would say that he was at 70 percent.

Right as Voldemort was about to get back to cooking, the door bell rang. An ominous, cold feeling passed through him. Feeling that he should see who it was, he left the kitchen and stalked his way to the stairs. The stairs gave him a perfect view of who was here if they decided to barge in. It was too bad Uncle Vernon was too fat to see past until then though.

Vernon waddled to the door, grumbling to himself. Unlike Petunia, who spies through the eye hole with vigor, trying to inspect who was who was there and judging them, Vernon flung opened the door to see who it was. It was because of that that he was entirely unprepared to see some guy, dressed in dark black robes, standing thee. After a few seconds of gaping, he asked, "What do you want?" His hatred of anything abnormal was laced in his voice.

The man at the doorway raised an eyebrow at the rude, fat _thing_ in front of him. In a smooth and controlled voice, he said, "Can I speak to Harry Potter please?" His eyebrow rose once more when he saw the pig's face turn white in fear before purple in rage.

Vernon suddenly uttered with a scowl, "No need to do anything rash. Mark my words; I will make sure that he is thoroughly punished."

The man frowned when he noticed how eager the fat man was to hurt the boy. He hadn't even stated that the boy was in trouble, the pig just assumed it. Before he could tell him otherwise, the pig waddled back inside, ignoring the man outside.

Voldemort watched passively as Vernon brought his obese head inside and located him. He squealed, "You!" With speeds reserved for dinner, he charged forward. Voldemort knew he could run away, but that would only make it worse in the end. Without a hint of emotion he allowed himself to be grabbed by the throat and dragged to the door. Voldemort's face hardened when he saw who it was.

The man stood at a proud 5'11. He had a lean build, but he wasn't bulky. He had the strong, agile look to him. His features were soft, but not kind. He had black hair and piercing brown eyes. Voldemort instantly recognized him. Rudolphus Lestrange, husband of Bellatrix Lestrange, a man infamously know for his cruelty in torture.

"So what did he do?" Vernon asked with spit spraying across Voldemort's face. With a grin, Rudolphus realized what was going on: the world's "Golden Child" was living the live of an abused child. This was very amusing to him.

Rudolphus smoothly masked his grin with a fake, kind smile. He said with a polite voice, "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, but he has done nothing wrong. I only with to speak with him, privately. A simple walk in the park will do."

Voldemort began piecing things together. In a matter of seconds, he realized what was about to happen. Dumbledore moved him to Private Drive because no one could hurt him with magic there. Now a fiercely devoted Death Eater was at his master's 'murderer's' house, requesting for a private walk. _He wants to kill you,_ Harry summed up. _Why don't you send your Death Eaters a message like 'those who fight Harry Potter die'?_

Voldemort knew Harry didn't mean to message the Death Eaters through the dark mark, he meant to kill Rudolphus. The problem with that was that Bellatrix would want revenge, and she had a command of part of the army. There would be no escape. One look at Vernon's face told him that he didn't have a choice in the matter.

A scream from the kitchen cut off Vernon's reply, "Fire!" Vernon speed waddled into the kitchen to see what happened, with Voldemort right behind him. Apparently he left the stove on. The beacon was burning in a miniature flame, and the beacon was blackening. Seeing how no one was moving, Voldemort shoved pass the wall of fat and turned off the stove. The harmless flames reluctantly died out, no longer having anything to keep them burning. All that was left of the beacon was a charred mess.

Vernon, obviously still bitter from being denied a beating at the doorway, took advantage of the opportunity. He grabbed Voldemort by the neck and yelled in his face, "You moronic, retarded, bastard brat! How the bloody hell did you forget to turn off the bloody stove?! How the hell am I going to eat breakfast NOW Huh?!" He continued raving, saliva splattering in Voldemort's face. After a few seconds, Voldemort wondered if the face was purple because of rage or lack of oxygen. It was probably both. With a final select choice of words, Vernon chucked him on the floor in front of the door like a child in a tantrum.

Rudolphus watched with amusement as he heard yelling and saw the Boy-Who-Lived land in front of him, hard. When the boy lifted his head up, he saw a look of fierce defiance. The boy casually, albeit slowly, stood up unflinching. Rudolphus had to admit he was impressed with the boy's pain tolerance. With glee he wondered how he would do under the cruciatus curse. He snapped out of his daydream when he saw the scene in front of him continue.

Voldemort, seeing Vernon continuing to charge, walked outside, making sure to bump into Rudolphus on the way. Vernon stopped at the doorway yelling, "And don't come back! Live outside in the cold for all I care!" Voldemort had no intention of coming back either. If he lived from the inevitable fight with Rudolphus, things were guaranteed to change. What things, he didn't know, but deep down he knew that his time as a safe muggle was over.

Rudolphus caught up with the briskly walking boy. After a few seconds of silence, he said, "There are a few things you must know of." Voldemort realized that he was going to explain things before he killed him. That gave him more time to think of a plan. Seeing the boy nod his head, he continued, "About ten years ago, a great man lived. He was powerful and undefeated in battle. He fought to stop the corruption of the minister, to establish a dictatorship that would make Britain more powerful than America!" He paused to gauge 'Harry's' reaction. He frowned when he saw no change in the boy's features. The concentrating face reminded him of someone, but who he did not know who. Trying once again to shock the boy, he said in a boisterous, salient voice, "He was a wizard." With a grin he once again studied the boy's face. The grin was replaced with a scowl.

Voldemort was deep in concentration, adequately blocking out the words of his Death Eater. _I only have enough power for 3 killing curses. I should focus on defense. As a Lestrange, he will start with a cruciatus curse. If I get hit by that I am sure to lose. I'm too weak for an efficient Air Compression. A stun-kill combo would work, but he was training to expect a stun. A cutter... no._

_What is the use of the knowledge for all those spells if they are useless?_ Harry asked. He had watched Voldemort cycle through dozens of spells and find reasons why none would work. At the same time, he felt no worry, fear, or panic pass through the link. _It's almost as if you don't care if you die._

_You forget I already have, and can't, die. As for the possibility of true death, I am not worried. Everyone will die at sometime. Besides, I can't change the fact that me and him will fight today. And as a final note, any plan you form for a battle never works. I'm only making notes on how to fight, not a plan,_ Voldemort answered coolly. He noticed that he had arrived at the park, and that they were making their way towards the secluded section.

Rudolphus continued his speech about wizards and the Dark Lord. He explained the campaign, his allegiance, and was winding down to the finale. "But then, ten years ago, my master went after a rebellious family: the Potters. Using his cunning, he found the family and obliterated them, but when he came to the child, however, something unique happened. The killing curse reflected, killing my master and dealing a devastating blow to the honorable Death Eaters. In order to continue the campaign of my master I must–"

Harry tapped his foot impatiently and interrupted, "Yah, yah. You must kill me, the Boy-Who-Lived to avenge Voldemort and continue your conquest. Let's just hurry up and fight already, Rudolphus." Voldemort had decided to give Harry control of the body as he finished his notes. They had arrived in a concealed clearing.

Rudolphus gaped, open-mouthed, at Harry. After a few seconds, he closed it and said through gritted teeth, "I have underestimated you, Harry Potter. Are you prepared to die?"

Voldemort took control of the body again and said nothing. As Harry receded back into the mind, he said, _you're back at 80 percent. Good luck._

Voldemort placed his two hands together and entered a unique stance. Rudolphus pulled out his wand and didn't enter a stance, thinking the boy wouldn't be a problem. The wand was another problem for Voldemort. The reason the old Voldemort and Dumbledore both used wands, despite being able to use wandless magic, was because wands saved energy. Wands were mediums that channeled magic into a pure form that was easy for casting spells. Wandless, on the other hand, was just someone pumping out raw magic to manipulate something. This took a tremendous amount of energy. With his slightly depleted, miniature magical core, he was at a major disadvantage.

Rudolphus, impatient as ever, shouted the expected, "Crucio!" Voldemort flawlessly side-stepped the jagged beam of light before settling back into his stance. The dodge only seemed to make Rudolphus ecstatic. "Ooh, this is going to be fun!" He began to shout off spell after spell, eager to see the boy's endurance. He got more than that.

After the initial dodge, Voldemort prepared for the fight of his life. He rolled out of the way of the next cruciatus and shot off a cutter before rolling once again. The cutter had grazed Rudolphus's leg, sending the man into a euphoric rage. "Ooh, Potter! You have some magic in you. All the better! Now I will really enjoy watching you suffer!" He shouted with a maniacal, crooked grin. He switched his cruciatus to cutters of his own. The basic spell was able to be cast much faster than a crucio.

Voldemort found that dodging wouldn't work anymore after he was cut the second time. He cast the levitating spell on a nearby boulder and began using it as a shield. Voldemort figured it would last around ten cutters, but it would take less energy to levitate it than to dodge. While hiding behind the stone shield he summoned a few tree branches. He cast the cutter on both ends of them and prepared a counter attack. A quick check with Harry told him he had 70 magic left.

Right as the last of the boulder shattered, Voldemort propelled the shards forward, causing Rudolphus to temporarily stop his offense and roll to the side. It was too late, however, as some shards pierced his arm. The achievement for Voldemort didn't come without a price, unfortunately, as when the boulder shattered a large shard impaled his shoulder.

Voldemort summoned another boulder as a shield in order to give himself a break. He pulled out the shard, wincing slightly as blood oozed out of the wound. He cast a simple healing spell that only closed the skin. Knowing better than to try the same tactic twice, Voldemort improvised.

The cutters once again began hammering the shield, revealing that Rudolphus had healed and was ready once again. Instead of waiting for the shield to fall, Voldemort began charge forward. He was only ten feet away from Rudolphus when the shield finally fell. As soon as Voldemort caught sight of him, he clapped his hands, compressing the air in front of Rudolphus to a liquid form. Before Rudolphus could wonder what was going on, Voldemort released it. A violent wind ripped through the air, sending Voldemort back a few feet, but he remained standing. As for Rudolphus, he took the blunt of the blow and was knocked off his feet into the air. He landed roughly on the ground.

Voldemort knew better than to stand around, so he clapped once again, sending a ball of slush where Rudolphus lay. Right as he released it, Rudolphus rolled to the side. The mini explosion tossed Rudolphus against a tree, where a sickening crunch was heard. On the ground where the explosion happened, a crater was formed. It was about five feet across and four feet deep.

Voldemort took advantage of his downed opponent and summoned the stakes he made earlier. The three sharpened pieces of wood levitated harmlessly at Voldemort's side as he began his next attack. After a quick warning from Harry about only 45 percent magic left, he decided to cast a cutter.

It wasn't really a surprise to Voldemort when he saw Rudolphus look up and deflect the cutter away. However, he was surprised that he hadn't prepared to dodge it. The jet of light hit him in the side, inflicting a deep wound. The pain took him to his knee, and he hissed sharply. He saw Rudolphus rise to his feet and that only the bark had broken on impact. Rudolphus cast a bludgeoner spell at his kneeling opponent. Voldemort sent his three stakes as an attack, but could only raise an arm to deflect the incoming bludgeoner spell. The stakes where dodged easily, and they harmlessly implanted into the crater. It was then that Voldemort began his plan.

With his left arm, Voldemort sent off a weak stunner. When he twitched his right hand, jolts of pain flared, telling him that the arm was broken. He healed the skin from the cut on his side, but he was in no condition to start running.

He looked straight into the eyes of Rudolphus and dared him to attack. Rudolphus glared and shouted, "Crucio!" Voldemort watched the jet of red light approach in slow motion. It hit him square in the chest and sent him onto his back. Like electricity, pain flared in every nerve in his body. It felt like hot knives were puncturing every inch of his body at the same time. It didn't matter how many times one has been under the curse, it didn't matter how strong one's pain tolerance was, the curse would always be unbearable. Through the uncontrolled spasming and flailing limbs, Voldemort didn't cry out in pain. He briefly thought he smelled burning skin, but his mind was too fogged to be sure. After being under the curse for a few seconds, it stopped. Or at least he thought it stopped. The pain in his right arm was still up to Crucio standards, and his limbs were still jerking around beyond his control. Through pure will power, he feebly blocked out the pain and opened his tormented eyes.

The first thing Voldemort saw was flashing colors. He blinked and they cleared up slightly, leaving blurry blotches of green and blue. His eyes slowly came into focus, and the blotches formed into the sky and trees. Not feeling up to moving his body, he turned his eyes down to check out what Rudolphus was doing. Said man was starring at his wand in shock.

"Crucio!" Little red sparks shot out harmlessly. The shock melded into confusion as he shouted with more force, "Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! CRUCIO!" Nothing but sparks and heavy breathing followed. He growled before collapsing on one leg unable to hold up his weight any longer. He looked just as helpless as the boy in front of him.

Voldemort knew he had only one chance to survive and tried to speak. His dry throat gave a raspy cough, which made Rudolphus look over to him. He swallowed what little saliva he had left to at least dampen his parched throat. Giving another try, he coughed and said as loud as possible, "I call upon the Rule of Olympus: One Hour."

Rudolphus's face hardened as he studied the boy in front of him. There was no way he should have been able to exhaust him without a wand. And where did he learn all those spells and knowledge of the magical world? Giving a nod, he agreed to the rule. He once again got the feeling he knew the person who lived behind the cold, calculating eyes.

The Rule of Olympus was referring to the rule invented back when the Greek wizards dueled for the Olympics. All too often, the two combatants would both exhaust each other's reserves and be unable to continue the fight. This would displease the audience and the officials needed a way to resolve the matter. Because of that, they made a rule where they would have a recovering break in which neither could cast spells. The duration of the break was decided by the judges. The rule was kept through the ages and was still used in professional duels. By Rudolphus accepting the rule, he had acknowledged Voldemort as an equal.

Voldemort, knowing that he was safe for that hour, began preparing for the next fight. He got Harry to give him a strategic run down. _He probably ran out so fast because of the Cruciatus Curse and full-scale heals. I'm guessing it takes about 5 percent per cast of the Cruciatus and 1 percent per second it's held. The heals I'm guessing take around 15 percent. He probably won't use the Crucio this time as he will only have half of his reserves after the break. You on the other hand will be around 60 percent with a 20 percent limiter. That's 40 percent total. He should have around 50 percent with a 30 percent limiter. That's 20 percent and your advantage. If you stick to dodging until he runs out, you can stun him and cast the AK. If you decide to do that, make SURE you don't miss. The AK alone is 25 percent._

_That's a good plan, with one minor flaw: the dodging part. I can barely move because of the Cruciatus. I also have way too much physical damage to heal. Besides, I think I already have a plan. It all depends on luck._ Voldemort answered, his mind calculating everything imaginable on the fight.

Harry let amusement leak through the link, _I thought you said no plans work._

_A solid plan is like a frozen lake. There is a chance it will crack and you die while walking across it. My plan isn't solid, like the lake in the spring. I can now swim across it. Swimming is much harder, but also much safer._

There was a pause before Harry said, _that's the most ridiculous analogy I've ever heard, but I get the point behind it, kind of. Back to the problem at hand. What are the chances of the plan working?_

_40 percent,_ Voldemort answered. _Which are good odds considering I'm fighting one of my more brutal Death Eaters._ He felt a mental agreement from Harry before he decided to start relaxing.

After 30 minutes into the break, Voldemort sat up. He was extremely sore, and winced at times while trying to sit up. When he was finally up, he cradled his broken arm and began to observe his surroundings. The little clearing they were in was almost like a dueling arena. They were in a ditch with an extended mound on both sides. Trees lined the outside, giving them a sense of privacy. At the opposite side of Voldemort, just behind Rudolphus, was the crater with the stakes. Behind Voldemort were bushes, twigs dead and brittle. The dirt in the ditch was a light brown, dry from the hot, summer air. Drops of blood were splattered in a few areas. Dead leafs littered the ground in a few areas, crunching under the heavy footsteps of the pacing Rudolphus.

That brought up another point for Voldemort. What was he going to do with his Death Eaters? He was obviously going to have to fight against them until he was much older. By then they could have been eliminated. He would have to forsake his Death Eaters. That meant that he would have to raise a new army. The new army would be stronger. No more greedy criminals. They would be trustworthy, but flashes of his death reminded him that he couldn't trust them.

As Voldemort began to think of how he wanted his new army, something else reared its way into his head: Susan Bones talking about friends. Whenever a Death Eater was captured, he or she would spill all of his secrets, but when an order member was captured, they would take their secrets to the grave. When asked why, they all said, "Friends don't betray friends." With a shake of his head, Voldemort thought to himself, _I'm really going to have to look into this whole 'friends' thing._

Rudolphus stopping his pacing broke Voldemort out of his thoughts. He drew his wand and settled into a true dueler's stance. He said in a cautious voice, "It has been an hour." Voldemort nodded and stood. The pain prevented him from taking up his stance, but he was alert. Deciding to start the duel, Rudolphus shouted, "Defodio!" The lone beam of light sailed perfectly towards Voldemort, who easily side-stepped, allowing the light to cut some branches from the bush behind him. Voldemort decided to save his energy and not counter attack.

Things then became more complex. Rudolphus shot off a Lumos, temporarily blinding Voldemort, and by the time could see again, three spells wee headed his way. Voldemort identified them as stunner, cutter, and jelly-legs. He dived to the left, dodging the stunner and cutter, but the jelly-legs barely caught his foot. He sighed as he lost feeling in legs and hit the dirt. The sigh became a hiss of pain as he landed on his right arm.

Voldemort moved to cancel the ridiculous jinx, but paused when he realized he couldn't. He heard Rudolphus laugh, "That's right, you need a wand to cast counter spells. Why did you think I would cast such a childish spell? Now you can sit still and die. REDUCTO!" Voldemort noticed that the spell was cast through force magic. It had enough force behind it to easily splatter his body across the ground.

Thinking fast, Voldemort conjured a stone shield. When the spell collided with the stone, a crack was heard followed by the wall shattering into fragments. The stone efficiently stopped the spell, but the shards weren't as forgiving. Left forearm, left shoulder, stomach, ribs, right shoulder, right hand, right leg, and left foot each had a shard buried at least an inch deep.

Voldemort gasped in pain. He quickly released the conjured stone, causing the fragments to return to nothingness. The taste of copper began to enter his mouth. He coughed and crimson liquid came out of his mouth, landing on his chest. He felt a liquid sliding down his cheek, but he couldn't tell if it was blood or something else. He weakly waved his left hand, sealing the skin of all the wounds. This way he wouldn't die of immediate blood loss.

Voldemort suddenly went dizzy, and the world went out of focus. Knowing that he couldn't allow himself to fall unconscious there, he tried to fight off the dizziness. Thoughts began to slip away and his eyes began to close. As his world went black, he heard a voice. His head hurt too much for him to make sense of the words, but he began to focus on them. Slowly, the voice began to become more coherent. He recognized the voice, but not the owner. He tried harder and he could understand the words, _-demort! Wake up! Voldemort!_

Harry. Harry Potter was calling him. He should answer. Voldemort groaned, telling Harry he was awake. Relief flooded over the link. It was almost too much and his world dimmed. Not allowing himself to fall unconscious, Voldemort fought again. He began to successfully block out the pain of his body and the dizziness died down slightly. He asked slowly, _how much magic do I have left?_

Harry didn't say anything for a second. His voice came out cautiously and laced with worry, _25 percent. You have only 5 percent left, so you better start the plan of yours now. That conjure took up most of your magic. _Voldemort sent a mental agreement before opening his eyes.

A sense of déjà-vu went through Voldemort as he saw a blur of blue and green. Realizing he didn't have time to sit and wait to recover, he sat up and focused in front of him. The blue left his vision as green and brown took up everything. He noticed a black blur and assumed that to be Rudolphus. He noticed that he could move his legs again and began to stand. His eyes began to clear, and he prepared for the final part of the battle.

Rudolphus breathed heavily, carefully observing the downed boy with wary eyes. There was something else to him. Rudolphus came there expecting an easy victory and a huge blow dealt to the ministry. Instead, he ended up in a life or death fight against some ten year old child. The boy was skilled though, he'll give him that. Harry had put him, Rudolphus Lestrange, at a stand still with only wandless magic. It was over though. No more Boy-Who-Lived. It was time to- did the boy just groan? Impossible! Rudolphus grit his teeth in fury, why couldn't he just stay down? He was almost out of magic, forcing most of it into that last spell.

The boy began to stand. "No!" Rudolphus shouted. "Stay down! Just die! Reducto!" His shaky arm caused him to miss. The fierce green eyes focused on him. "Why? Why won't you die? WHO ARE YOU?!" he shouted, staring unbelievingly at the standing boy. He began to cast spell after spell in desperation.

Voldemort stood still as the flurry of spells reigned down onto his unprotected body. Cuts and bruises began appearing across his body. His shirt was barely hanging on by a few strands. The ground splattered with his blood. The final spell hit his leg and he was forced to his knee. Voldemort looked up in determination and began to rise again.

The boy finally dropped onto his knee. Rudolphus had run out of magic and glared hatefully at him. The boy's knee began to wobble. Rudolphus's eyes widened in fear. "N-No," he muttered, "You can't get up." The knee rose off the ground. The boy planted his foot and straightened his leg. He was once again standing. Rudolphus began to back-peddle in fear. He looked in the boy's eyes and only saw his death in them.

Voldemort had gone numb, both physically and mentally. His heart thumped defiantly in his chest, the rhythmic sound reaching his ears. All human thought left his mind. Only instinct remained. He took a step forward, dead eyes boring directly into the fearful brown ones. He raised his hand and felt a force move through it. The two bushes behind him glided forward and hovered silently in front of him.

Rudolphus shouted in fear and frustration, "Who are you?!" His bulky frame stood unprotected, defeated. His wand was held loosely in his limp hand at his side.

Voldemort felt rational thought enter him and he said in a clear, strong voice, "I am Harry Potter." He snapped his fingers, causing the bush to catch on fire. "And I am Lord Voldemort." He sent the burning bushes in a direct path toward Rudolphus.

Rudolphus's eyes widened at the declaration. He dropped his wand and watched the bushes approach in slow motion. He smiled at the irony and allowed the bushes to hit him in the chest. The force knocked him back. His feet left the ground as he began his decent into the crater. A thump and a gurgle were heard before everything went silent. Only the soft crackling of flames were heard.

Voldemort knew it was over. He didn't even have the energy to sigh as he collapsed to the ground. An orange light hit his eyes, and he was sure it wasn't the fire. He opened them and saw that the sun was almost set. He briefly wondered how the day had gone so fast before deciding he didn't care.

Voldemort then realized he couldn't stay there. Death Eaters were sure to come looking for Rudolphus when he didn't comeback. He needed to get back to the blood wards at Private Drive. He tried standing once more, but the flaring pain made him think otherwise. He extended his left arm in front of him and pulled himself forward. The gravel and twigs rubbing against him let him know how much he was going to dislike that in the end. Again he pulled himself forward, but this time a rock scraped his exposed stomach and reopened a wound. He barely noticed the additional pain among the countless others. It was after his third pull that he noticed a flaw in this version of transportation. He was leaving a blood trail.

_Move my limiters to 10 percent,_ Voldemort commanded. He had stopped moving and had his head resting on the side of the ditch.

_Are you joking? You are barely conscious as it is. You can't use more magic now,_ Harry answered incredulously. He knew Voldemort was skilled with magic and very knowledgeable in the subject, but this was a little too far.

Voldemort wasn't in the mood to explain himself and said more forcible,_ either you don't, they follow me, and we die, OR you do, I get us out, we pass-out, and we have a chance of living. Change - The – Limiter!_ That was the first time Harry ever heard Voldemort yell. Figuring he had no choice, he changed the limiters.

Voldemort felt himself gain control over his magic again. He healed the skin on all his cuts on his chest, bringing him to 20 percent. He summoned a large rock over and levitated it. His left arm easily caught a hold of it, but he had trouble gripping it with his right. After a few trial and errors, he decided to only use his left arm.

He levitated the rock higher, lifting everything except his legs off the ground. He pushed it forward with his magic, and he began to go up and out of the ditch and towards the park. He was doing this out of stamina magic, so he wasn't moving very fast. Around thirty seconds of the gentle hovering later, the Strain began. He fought hard to keep the rock up, but his magic did run out. The rock wobbled for a second before it fell to the ground lifelessly. Voldemort fell with it, but his bad luck stuck once again as he landed on a broken branch that's sharp end was sticking up. The branch pierced his stomach, sending jolts of pain throughout his weak body.

Voldemort shuddered suddenly. He just noticed how cold it was outside. He didn't have the energy to lift his head, but he could tell from the lighting that the sun had already set.

Voldemort went back to plan 'A.' He lifted his left arm and set it down in front of him. Digging his fingers into the hard dirt, he pulled himself forward, ignoring the extra injuries to his body. It became a pattern to him. Arm forward, pull, arm forward, pull. To him, that's all he had to continue on – the pattern. The continuous motions were the only thing he put his energy into. He didn't have to think about it, and eventually he got to the point where he couldn't stop.

To an onlooker, it must have looked funny. A child deciding to crawl around with one arm. Although, if they looked closer, a spectator would have seen something else. They would have seen raw determination. An injured person, handicapped in all limbs but one, fighting through pain and fatigue in order to continue onwards.

Voldemort used what ever he could to move forward. Roots, rocks, and even animal holes all contributed to the pattern of movement, but when there was nothing to grab onto, he used his own fingertips. It didn't take long for his skin on his stomach to go raw. Blood came soon after that from scraping rocks. It was when the dirt stopped that Voldemort looked up. The numb, shredded fingers were able to grasp something cool. Feeling around, Voldemort noticed there was a lot of it. He opened his eyes and saw green. He didn't have the energy to focus on the sea of green, but he knew what it was. Grass. He had arrived at the park.

Voldemort, with the rhythm broken, realized just how exhausted he was. There was a dull burning in his left arm, a reminder of his accomplishment. He studied the specific area of the park in more detail. If he had any energy left, he would have laughed in dry humor. He was now at his private clearing.

He locked his sights on the bench, his new target. He was around ten yards away. As he began to move again, the dull burn erupted into a blazing fire. Voldemort gritted his teeth and push forward. He only made it ten yards before he ran out of energy. Not one to give up, he gathered what energy he had left and tried again. Two more yards down he collapsed.

The moon was out and darkness had fallen, symbolizing nighttime. A cool breeze wound its way through the trees and caressed Voldemort's still corpse. He shivered and drew himself into a ball. He groaned as he wished all the pain would go away. The shields that blocked out the pain crumbled, and pain hit him with full force. Voldemort wished that some god would come and take away all the misery. There was nothing left he could do. He would die there, alone.

_Except you're not alone,_ came a voice. Voldemort shook his head in anguish. He argued that he was alone. _Then who am I?_ No answer. _Talk to me, Voldemort._ Voldemort opened his eyes, realizing that he wasn't alone. He had Harry Bloody Potter._ That's right, you have me. Now give me control of the body so we can live through this._

Voldemort didn't have the energy to argue more and wordlessly passed over ownership. Harry hissed in agony as pain hit him from everywhere. His respect for Voldemort grew greatly in that second. How could someone possibly function under that much pain? Either way, Harry lifted his arm and pushed forward. Changing ownership did not grant more energy. The only thing gained from the switch was Harry's willpower.

Harry was all but growling as he forced his way across the grass. He collapsed just in front of the bench. As he forced his way to the back of the shared mind, he muttered, _Good Luck._ Voldemort took control of the body slightly rejuvenated. His shields were back up and holding strong. With strength he didn't think he had left, he lifted himself up and onto the bench.

As Voldemort relaxed, he asked in a strained voice, _you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that last bit of strength, would you?_

With an equally weak voice, Harry answered,_ I might have removed the physical limiters._

Voldemort laughed, something that same as strangled cough, _if we live through this, there will be hell to pay._

_We didn't get this far..._ Harry muttered before falling asleep.

Voldemort felt the last of his energy slipping away. He let out a, "Damn you... Lestrange." Before joining Harry in the land of blackness.

* * *

Antonin Dolohov looked at his clock with a distasteful look. It had been twelve hours since Rudolphus had left. As were the rules, he now had to search for him. He apparated into the park. He cast a location spell on the nearest magical location. He noticed with surprise that there was a place burning with magical residue. He apparated to that location and casted a lighting spell. He was amazed at what he saw. 

Signs of an epic battle were all that remained of the duel between Master and Servant. Scorch marks, blood, shattered stone, and even craters defiled the once peaceful floor of the forest. Antonin shook his head in wonder. The-Boy-Who-Lived must have put up a hell of a fight, if the landscape was any indication. He began to look for the corpses. After scanning for a few minutes, he saw a dark crater. Inside, he found what he was looking for. A blackened and burned corpse was impaled with a look of agony in the disfigured features of the face.

Antonin could only stare at the corpse. It was too large to be a child's, that's for sure. He noticed a dropped wand only feet away from the hole. He picked it up and confirmed it to be Rudolphus's. He performed a scan on recently casted spells. He saw the number of spells used and was amazed. "Well, I'll be damned. The little bugger lived through all that?" Antonin knew that Rudolphus was by no means a strong fighter, but he wasn't weak by any standards.

Thunder hammered in the background, and Antonin noticed the dark clouds looming above him. They obscured the moon and he knew that it would rain any seconds. Noticing he was short on time, he tried searching for a blood trail left by the surviving boy. He found it fairly quickly. Thick lines of dark liquid began in one direction before ending abruptly. He stopped at the end in confusion. The first few drops of rain began, and he cursed. There was no way to follow it. He cursed one more time before disapparating away.

A few hours later, in a cold cell, a prisoner sat in the corner. She felt a chill go up her spine. Knowing that it could only mean one thing, she looked up to the door. Without a single sound, the door slid open and a dark figure glided into the room. A grotesque hand rose and pointed to her. A finger made a beckoning motion. It looked almost as if Death himself was calling her. The figure glided back out with equal silence.

The girl rose to her feet, a little wobbly. The cold sank into her deeply, a feeling that had never quite gone away for as long as she had been in that cell. She stumbled towards the door and exited with feelings of mild curiosity burning deep in the place that once held a heart. She followed the darkly cloaked figure down the halls in the twisted labyrinth. She arrived at what she assumed to be the visitors section. The door to the new room opened, and with it bright light assaulted her tormented eyes. With a fearlessness that she was known for, she strode into the light.

As she crossed the border between the lit room and the shadowed hallways, the feeling of cold lifted from her core. She gave a shudder of pleasure with her eyes closed. When she opened her eyes, she saw someone she recognized sitting at a table. She sat down across from him and leaned back in her chair, showing that even if lying broken in prison, her pride and apathy for others remained.

She asked in a harsh voice that sounded like it hadn't been used in months, "What do you want, Dolohov? Freedom not good enough for you? Ashamed that you turned your back on the Dark Lord when he went into hiding? Well... say something!"

Antonin merely regarded her with hard eyes. He let silence reign between them, taking in the moment. He reflected back on how this was supposed to be his fate. Not letting himself get distracted for too long, he looked her dead in the eye and said, "Your husband is dead."

The woman's cold eyes suddenly widened in surprise. "WHAT?! How? Why? When? WHO?" She looked frantic, almost pitiful. Her ragged appearance added to the picture of one who has truly lost everything.

Antonin took a deep breath, and released it slowly, like one does with a cigarette. He gave her a second to calm down, before saying, "At 8 o'clock this morning, your husband decided to kill The-Boy-Who-Lived while he was living with his muggle relatives. At 8 o'clock that night, when he didn't return, I went out searching for him. I found his corpse on what could only be described as a battlefield. A scan on his wand showed that he put up a great fight, but his corpse proved that wasn't enough. I found him impaled by a spike and burned to death." He paused to await her orders, as she was temporary leader while Voldemort was 'gone.'

The woman sat there in shock, staying silent. She knew that one day he would die because of his reckless ambitions. It was that personality trait that drew her to him in the first place. Still, to actually hear those words hurt her inside. Her sorrow quickly turned to anger. Her eyes flashed with the burning emotion as she said with spite, "Gather my army and kill the bastard. Don't return until you do. I want him to fucking pay for that. No killing curses, only crucios. I want him Crucio-fied past insanity. Give him hell."

Antonin didn't show any emotion at that. He merely nodded and stood, "As you wish." With that, he turned and left through the door, having thoughts of impending doom looming over his head. He tried to repress the thoughts, but one leaked out, _just how strong is this boy?_

* * *

Here's the second chapter. I hope you like the length as it is my average. Next chapter will give more insight in the storyline. I know the fight scene was too dramatic and weak but just bare with me on that. 

Miss Susan Bones is introduced. She is option number one in the pairings soon to come. I'm still not sure exactly who all is going to be in the harem, if I make one, but know that she will have a large part in this story.

IMPORTANT: You can find my Chapter Progress at the bottom of my profile (aka how many words I've completed for each incomplete chapter so far).

For my final note, know that this story will get much darker. Next chapter will be a preview of the brutality soon to come.


	3. Waking Up

Well, I'm hoping for more reviews (or even hits for that matter) but what ever. Please try to enjoy.

* * *

The blackness stayed, blinding and comforting. Sound penetrated the darkness. It was whispers at first, muffled noises that made no sense what so ever. The whispers got louder. Some were frantic, some were calm yet distressed. It amused the listener slightly. The whispers stopped momentarily. A word. A cooling feeling entered the black fog. The listener felt strange and tried to ignore the biting cold that seemed to settle into his core. The whispers started again. They were more understandable. 

"-will be okay now... -an... just take him home... ask what happened... he wakes up..." The listener tried to piece the phrases together better, but gave up as a pounding began in his head. The pounding became louder and louder, blocking out the whispers. Then, when the pounding got to the point where he was sure it would burst his eardrum, it stopped. There were no more whispers, only blackness. The fog faded and the listener faded with it.

_Tom Riddle, for that was the name he was known as at the time, stood at the mouth of a cave, surveying the scene in front of him. Fire defiled the once beautiful hills. Blood and gore littered the fields. In some places, animals, once used in masterful transfiguration, lay slaughtered and once again lifeless. He shook his head in passive sorrow and shock. "And that was only the preliminaries. I hear the rest of the armies are being shipped here by tomorrow."_

_A man was sitting nearby, his back resting against a boulder. He was staring intently at his hands, like he could see something there others couldn't. "This isn't our war." His robes were in rags, and he looked as if he had lived in that cave for years. His skin was pale and his body thin. His hollowed cheeks gave him the appearance of a corpse. It was his eyes, however, that struck most people. The deep grey held no color. They were once spirited and full of emotion, but now they were as lifeless as stone. His shabby black hair reached past his eyes but not to the point where it covered them._

"_Of course it's not our war! It's the American's and the Russian's war. But they are afraid of each other, afraid of what would happen if they really fought each other. So now here they are, fighting side battles and claiming to have taken no part in them. It's not them who pay the price of this war; it's those they get involved with. You saw how Korea was split right down the middle and it was called a 'civil war.' HA! Now they are trying to do the same with England. This may not be our war, Gravitas, but we sure as hell have to fight in it," Tom exclaimed to Gravitas. His speech was full of so much passion, so much disgust, that only the most foolish could not be moved by it._

"_Aeolus... I have been through many wars. I'm not going to take part in anymore. My life as a soldier was over when they proclaimed Hitler dead," Gravitas proclaimed with a far off voice. He sounded defeated, hurt, and much older than he looked._

"_World War II was over in 1945, ten years ago. This is the Cold War! Once a soldier, always a soldier. If we go out there, we can help finish this. I swear that this battle will be the turning point in the war. Eliminating all Soviet occupation in Great Britain will easily cripple the Soviet-Union. We can accomplish that like we always have. The Americans won't even have to get their hands dirty," Tom tired to reason._

"_Dirty hands? You know whose hands are dirty? Do you know how much blood I have on my hands, Aeolus?" Gravitas looked up with his stone eyes and pierced Tom's reddish brown ones._

_Tom tried to play it off, "None. We are masters of clean killing, Gravitas. Remember that. Your hands are clean."_

"_Clean?" Gravitas gave a humorless laugh. "I see the blood of hundreds dripping down my fingers, pooling together on my palms with the blood of countless innocents. Do you call that clean?"_

_Tom had no answer. He resumed observing the baron battlefield. After a few seconds, he whispered just loud enough for Gravitas to hear, "I'm sorry to do this, old friend, but I'm calling in your life debt. To fulfill it you must fight with me."_

Pain. That was a good way to describe what Voldemort was feeling. He wasn't even conscious yet; he was slowly approaching the world of the living. Every muscle was burning in righteous fury. His magical core, while fully recovered, was also taxed, trying to heal the body. Even his mind was under the largest migraine ever known to man. Through all this, Voldemort sat patiently. In time, the pain lowered slightly, and he could open his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that it was very, very bright in the room. As his eyes slowly adjusted, more color began to appear. The next thing he noticed was pink. Lots and lots of pink. Everything in the room was pink, from the fluffy pillows to the fuzzy stuff animals. Evens the walls were the color. He blinked in mild curiosity as he formed possible scenarios. After a few seconds, he figured that the most probable was that some wizard saw him laying there injured and took him to their home in order to rest.

The pressure in his mind suddenly lifted, telling Voldemort that Harry was now 'awake.' Not wasting any time, Harry asked, _so about that crazy plan of yours, what was it?_

Voldemort didn't stopped his observations of the room when he said, _Mainly, it was get him to the rim of the crater, use the burning bushes to make him jump back and onto a spike. The fact that he feared my name to the point of madness really helped in that situation._

_If he feared you so much why didn't you just tell him your name to begin with, and work from there?_ Harry asked, with more curiosity than frustration.

Voldemort sat up in his bed, wincing at the pain it brought him, _He wouldn't have believed me, and even if he did, I don't think I will return to my Death Eaters. My time as a... child allowed me to rethink my life, many times over. Greedy criminals are not something I want to lead. I want to rule, yes, I want the power to do so, yes, but I want something worth ruling._

_Understandable... For a new topic, how about that dream of yours. When explaining your past, you only said that you entered the war with a friend. In that 'dream', there were signs of a bigger story there, so why don't you explain it to me... Aeolus,_ Harry suggested with a hint of amusement.

_What is there to explain?_ Voldemort asked in a dismissive tone.

_Why he called you Aeolus, what happened, and who Gravitas was._

Voldemort was silent for a moment. His Occlumency shields went back up, surprising Harry greatly. This must have been something that affected the stoic Dark Lord. After a minute of gathering thoughts, Voldemort lowered his shields and said to Harry, _Aeolus was the God of Wind, also known as air, in Greek mythology. It was a suitable codename for me as my attacks revolved around the manipulation of air. Gravitas, also a codename, was referring to gravity, being the etymology. As for what happened... we-_

The door opened, cutting off Voldemort mid-thought. To his surprise and Harry's amusement, Susan Bones walked into the room, carrying a glass of water and a plate of food. Upon seeing him sitting up and staring at her, Susan's face lit up and she rushed to him. She stopped just before collision and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm waking up after being brutally beaten and left in the cold," Voldemort stated bluntly. Harry let amusement trickle through their link.

With a concerned look, Susan exclaimed, "You _were_ beaten and left in the cold!" Voldemort blinked and Harry began to laugh.

_How could someone miss that?_ Voldemort asked incredibly.

Harry calmed down a bit and said, _it's a child's innocence. Ever heard of it?_ Voldemort stayed silent, but the silence was an obvious no.

Susan continued on, "Me and my aunt went for a walk early in the morning, and as we passed by your little section, I saw you on the bench. I was about to wake you up, but then I noticed all the blood. My aunt kept you stable as we brought you here. That was two days ago." Voldemort briefly wondered what happened to the intelligent girl he had met in the park. Not giving him time to take in the information, she asked, "So what happened?"

Voldemort stayed silent for a second, trying to think of a good excuse. He decided a twisted truth was the best lie. "I was simply sitting in the park after a long day with my relatives when a man in black robes and a white mask appeared out of thin air and began saying all these weird words. While he said them, beams of light of various colors came out of a stick he was holding. When those beams of light hit me, I felt strange things. One cut me up, one felt like a punch, and one even made my legs stop working. I couldn't figure out what was going on. I tried curling myself up into a ball on the bench and tried to wait it out. Everything went black after a few minutes."_That gives some foundation to work off of,_ he decided, satisfied with his lie. Harry agreed.

Before Susan could reply, Amelia walked into the room. She seemed surprised that 'Harry' was awake, but she hid it well. She asked in a motherly tone, "How are you feeling?"

Deciding to give a better answer that kept up with his disguise, Voldemort said in a whiney voice, "I hurt all over." He saw Susan's eyes narrow a fraction of a millimeter. He cursed himself for his sloppiness and trust in child obliviousness. He made a note to remember that no matter how oblivious Susan acted, she had a sharp mind and was related to THE Amelia Bones.

"I'm not surprised; you were pretty banged up," Amelia said with a shake of her head. "Can you explain to me what happened?"

Voldemort gave the 'unabridged version' of his lie. While he was talking, Amelia only half listened. She ran through simple diagnostic scans and was happy to see he was recovering very fast. A little curious, she did a scan of his magic. To say she was surprised would be like saying hell was warm.

The first thing she noticed was his exceptionally large core. It was big enough to count as a six or seventh year Hogwarts student. The next thing she saw was that it had the fastest pulsing rate she had ever seen. It looked like, even with its immense size, it could refill from empty to full in two hours. The thing that surprised her the most was the residue. He obviously had to have built it up somehow but not like that. He must have cast over 100 spells in the last week, including the two days he was unconscious. And the pure strength of the spells also caught her interest. Level six destruction ratings at minimum. Even two level eights! She shook her head in wonder. If he did all that without knowledge of the magical world, he would deserve the title of boy wonder. Seeing that he asked her a question, she looked up and asked for him to repeat it.

Voldemort had felt her prodding around his magical core and tried to sidetrack her before it became too late. When she didn't respond, he knew it was. He asked loudly, "Why do I feel tingly inside?" She broke out of her trance with a slightly distracted look on her face and asked for him to repeat that. "I felt like there was something inside my chest and it got all tingly."

Amelia sighed and thought for second. Voldemort didn't have to wait long before she decided to just wing-it. "That was me..." She began. "I checked out your magical core." Voldemort put on a disbelieving look, making her smile. "Yes, magic exists. Would you like me to demonstrate?" Seeing Voldemort nod, she said, "_Lumos!_" Immediately, a blinding white light filled the room, coming off of her wand.

This gave Voldemort an idea. It would cover his trail nicely and banish any thought on his story being false. He suddenly shrieked in fear and curled into a ball. He closed his eyes and repeated a mantra. "Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me!" Amelia instantly realized what she had done and stopped the spell. Susan immediately hugged Voldemort and whispered soothing words. After a while, Voldemort 'calmed down' and relaxed into Susan's embrace. He felt surprising comfortable. Appalled at that very idea, he half retched away from Susan, much to the amusement of Harry.

At Susan's confused look, Voldemort played it off. "I feel better now, thank you." Still doing his part, he refused to look at Amelia.

Amelia asked, "What's wrong with my wand, Harry?"

Voldemort whimpered while looking at bed. "The man who attacked me had a 'wand.' I thought you would do the same."

"Oh Harry! I would never do that!" Amelia said with much emotion. Voldemort decided silence would be the best response. Amelia decided that she would just explain things from there. "Well, there is a whole world of magic out there. I happen to work there." She explained the entire world to him. It took a few hours, but Voldemort figured she covered most of everything. He relaxed knowing that he could actually use some of his knowledge and play it off as hearing about it from her.

A new idea rose in Voldemort. He may be able to continue using magic, even here. It had a 10 percent chance of risk, he figured, but the benefits were worth it. He asked Amelia, "Is this magic?" He summoned a stuffed animal off one of the dressers.

Amelia's mouth dropped in shock, before she pursed her lips. She said, "Yes, it is. If you don't mind me asking, how did you learn to do that?"

_Time to pull off the most important lie since denial of Horcruxes,_ he thought to himself. "Well, I remember about five years ago I had lost my glasses. I tried looking around for them, but I couldn't find them. Eventually, my cousin came in the room and laughed at me. He said he placed them on the top shelf in my closet, somewhere I could never reach. He left, and I tried to reach for them. I began getting frustrated and sad that I couldn't get them. The emotions took over my mind, and I felt a loss of control over my body. Suddenly, I felt a force move through me. I couldn't see what happened because my glasses were off, but I felt something land on my hands. They were my glasses! I put them on and tried to do that again. It took awhile, but eventually I got it down. I've been practicing it ever since."

Amelia studied him for a moment. She finally said, "Wow, that's quite amazing. Accidental magic is quite common for young wizards like yourself when they are emotionally overwhelmed. But to be able to recreate it without an instructor... You either are very magically talented or are a protégé. Either way will be very helpful in the near future." _To be able to get a core that large off of summoning spells... He must have done them with the purpose of training. That's the only way. Maybe I should ask him... I'll wait until tomorrow._

"Now then, I'm curious as to how you have been doing magic for the last five years without being caught by the ministry, especially since I am the one that controls the misuse of magic sector," Amelia said with amusement.

Harry whistled, _Wow, you fooled THE Amelia Bones. Has she gotten rusty in her old age?_ It was rhetorical so Voldemort didn't answer. _But now how are you going to get out of this one. The truth would be the best response, but that would get her suspicious._

_You underestimate me,_ Voldemort replied emotionlessly. "Well... maybe they can't tell if you don't have a... wand. You never mentioned that people could do magic without one. You also said it was rare for people to learn magic without an instructor. I mean, wouldn't the people not have to worry about no wand magic?"

Harry gave a golf clap, _excellent work with playing off of what she said, and the no wand part was a brilliant play of child ignorance._ Voldemort gave a mental bow.

Amelia thought about it for a second. It DID make sense in a way. Only those with extreme talent could do wandless magic, so they never had the need to scan for it. Sometimes it really does seem like the future generations are more intelligent. She sighed and shook her head, "I think that you're right. It makes sense. Now the real question is should I let you continue using it."

_Here we go..._ Voldemort thought. He put on his child façade. "Why would I not be allowed to use it? It's not like I can cast some hurtful spell. Wouldn't continuing to use magic help me later?"

Amelia stared at him long and hard. For a second, Voldemort thought he was being too obvious. She suddenly smiled and said, "Yes, I believe it would help you. You may continue to use magic."

Susan suddenly perked up, reminding both of them that she was still in the room. "Can you teach me how to use magic too?" Amelia got a thoughtful look on her face. As for Voldemort, the cogs in his head were turning at the request. He studied the pros and cons. To his shock and curiosity, his pros kept on being biased and outweighing the cons. He scowled inwardly.

Harry taunted him, _Aw, does little Voldey-Poo have a crush?_

Voldemort was temporarily relieved by the distraction, _call me that one more time and I will show you the more painful uses of Legilimency._

_Sure thing... Aeolus,_ Harry said with amusement leaking through the link. Voldemort resigned himself to the fact that he can't win and ignored Harry.

Amelia slowly nodded, "I think that would be a wonderful idea. I am reluctant to say that my limits of wandless are only levitation and summoning charms, and I personally don't know how I could possibly teach it. Harry, would you be able to teach her?"

Voldemort faked thinking about it, already knowing he would to the amusement of Harry. "I think I could..." he said reluctantly. Susan smiled and hugged him, bringing back that uncomfortable comforting feeling. Voldemort tried not to look too out of place and weakly returned the hug.

Amelia smiled secretly at the pair. If her 'daughter' snagged the Boy-Who-Lived, she could die a happy woman. After all, wasn't it every parent's dream for their kids to marry a hero? She hoped the best for her 'daughter' and secretly slipped out of the room. Noticing it was late, she went to bed. She would have much work to do the next day.

When Susan finally released Voldemort, she noticed how late it was. She excused herself with a smile and left to her temporary room, leaving Voldemort alone. Voldemort laid back and exhaled slowly. _Wow, that was painful,_ he thought to himself. The hug had reminded him of all the little joys of the battle, each flaring in fond memory. Every square inch of his body burned in righteous fury.

Voldemort eased himself back into the bed and let out a shaky breath. He closed his eyes and relaxed slightly. He skipped over all thoughts of talking with Harry as he drifted off to sleep.

_Devastation ruled the lands. Piles of corpses, scattered remains of countless objects, black ashes, and pools of blood all contributed to the scenery. A heavy down-pour obscured the view of most of the destruction. Fires still burned, magically enhanced to burn for longer than normal. The corpses, clothed in one of two uniforms, lay lifeless, side by side, as if ignorant to the fact that they had been trying to kill each other not one hour ago. It was silent, besides the rain. Only heavy breathing could be heard. A lone figure knelt in the center of everything._

_The figures eyes were red, and his charcoal hair was matted down on his face. His teeth were grit. He clutched his wand tightly. Blood, running down his body, mixed with the rain. His black robes were shredded in places and were barely hanging onto his shoulders. He said something between his teeth._

"_Damn you, Gravitas. So much could have been prevented. So much... For this, I'll fucking kill you. I swear it."_

XXXXXXXX

Somewhere in Great Britain, one other man walked on, undisturbed in the night. His blood red robe was bathed in the shadows of the night. He seemed to have a destination, but didn't appear to be headed in a particular direction. A breath of wind ruffled his robes, and he stopped walking. He crossed his arms, as if expecting something. A short crackling was heard as he was instantly surrounded by wizards, all of which had their wands trained on him.

The wizard's leader, a burly man with a deep voice, addressed him in a booming voice, "You are surrounded by forty men, Ex-Silence Specialist Operant Codenamed: Gravitas. We are the Renegade Reapers. Submit to obtainment or we will use force."

The man in the center, identified as Gravitas, grinned madly. "The RR? Ha! You are nothing compared to a member of the SSC. I bet your 'experience' only goes as far as criminals. Only you, the 'leader' of this little group, would even qualify as a match against a new recruit for the SSC."

The leader didn't seem fazed by the slight against his men. "Will you or will you not submit?"

Gravitas tapped his chin in thought. "I bet that, if we were to fight, only the leader would survive the first spell. Maybe I'm overestimating him. Only one way to find out though."

"You shall now be detained by force." Three advanced shields popped up around each member of the RR: a green, blue, and red one. "Any statements for trial before being taken into captivity?"

Gravitas grinned and turned his attention back to the leader. "A single word will do... Deprimo." Instantly, forty pillars of blood sprayed into the air around him. Every member of the RR was crushed by an unseen force. Their shields flickered out of existence. Gravitas shook his head in disappointment. "HQ really should start debriefing their members as to what they are up against. Not a single anti-gravity ward? Pathetic..."

Gravitas suddenly looked down. Blood was leaking from his shins. He muttered, "I guess I need more of the potion." He shrugged once and continued onward to his destination. He walked away from the clearing, leaving forty bodies inside a crater that stretched for thirty yards in diameter. The crater was three feet deep. Any onlooker would be amazed that he did that without his wand. His arms were crossed through the whole ordeal.

XXXXXXXX

Voldemort woke up in a cold sweet that morning. He didn't mind as it helped relieve the burning in his muscles, but it was what caused him to wake up in such a condition that made him wonder. A bad feeling settled in the back of his mind, but he didn't think it had anything to do with his new situation. He paired that with his memories of the war and decided that he needed to be much more careful.

Almost immediately after opening his eyes, Harry asked, _Now continue your story. You were saying that you and this Gravitas guy..._

Voldemort sighed and replied, _It was back when World War II reached its peak. The German Stosstruppen were, to put it simply, amazingness personified._

Harry didn't say anything for a second. Finally, he asked, _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

_Sorry, that's what we called it back in the war. They were a band of troops sent on assault - usually suicide - missions at choke points where they held maximum advantages. The first time they were use, back in World War I, a simple group of twenty held out for days on a fortified hill against hundreds of soldiers and artillery. That cut off the British reinforcements from the front lines not two miles ahead of them that led to a German victory there. The way they fought made it almost impossible to kill them. In World War II, there were over a dozen wizard versions of these groups. Britain decided to make their own version of it. It was called the Silence Specialist Corporation, also known as the SSC. It was often called the SS to mock the German Schutzstaffel – also known as SS,_ Voldemort began.

He continued,_ Ten people, including me, joined the corps. As the name implies, it only accepted people qualified as Specialist. As you know, I am an air specialist. They didn't allow us to know each others real name. They gave us codenames based on our specialties from the moment we were accepted. Aeolus, the god of air, was my name. Then there was Gravitas, the etymology of gravity. There was also Sub-Zero, Thrall Master, Zeus, Turtle, Sniper, Ghost, Necro, and Inferno. Our training was to learn from each other and fight each other for experience. In terms of overall ability and power, Necro was first, followed by Turtle, me, Gravitas, Sniper, Ghost, Zeus, Thrall Master, Inferno, and finally Sub-Zero. I learned things from them that you couldn't imagine._

_We trained for two months before our first battle. It was flawless. The choke for Italian forces was cut off, and we killed fifty in the process of doing so. We didn't even lose a single member of our ten. From there, we returned to France and continued training. This lasted for about a week before Germany sent a force of 250 wizards to take over Paris, where we were staying. It was an important battle. Two of us died there. Never had I encountered anything that gruesome before._

_Paris, 1945_

_It was one year after Paris was liberated from Nazi control. Ten people stood facing each other in a dim room. The leader, known simply as Necro, spoke to each of them, "We have received word from Churchill himself that we are to take part in our first anti-German operation. We are to-" He was interrupted as the door jerked open._

_A French wizard saluted before saying in a light accent, "We have just received word from scouts and decoded transmissions that there is an army of 250 wizards approaching. There are three confirmed Stosstruppen squads amongst them, although our wards have yet to pick them up. Wards confirm 220 troops. What is your course of action?"_

_Necro shook his head and smiled. "There you have it boys and girl. Our time as anti-shock troops has come. Tell your superiors to hang back. We shall handle this." The French soldier saluted once again before rushing off. "Alright! Turtle and Inferno, you are to engage the main forces. That means, Inferno, burn as many mother fuckers as possible while keeping his ass covered Turtle. Aeolus, take Gravitas and Thrall Master and cover the north. Trace and kill any shockers you see. Ghost and Sniper, you will act as support for Inferno and Turtle as you scan the general area for the second shockers. That means Sub-Zero and Zeus, you are with me as we cover the south. This is what we trained for. Go kick some Nazi ass!" As one, they all disapparated._

_Aeolus appeared at a grassy field just north of France shortly before Gravitas and Thrall Master. He scanned the area once before disillusioning himself. The others followed his example. They ran along across the field into the hills. They scanned the area once again before moving to the next hill. They repeated the pattern for every hill. At the fifth hill, they stopped. Wordlessly, Thrall Master pulled out four wooden, hand-carved animals. With a flick of his wand, they were transfigured into larger than normal animals. There was a bear, a lion, an eagle, and a bat. The animals were disillusioned and took up positions around the squad with the bat in the front. The bat was silence and then they began moving again, this time without stopping._

_Only a few minutes later, explosions were heard coming from Paris. "It's a good thing we have nothing that we need to prepare," Gravitas breathed. Aeolus nodded, although it was unseen._

"_Hey!" Thrall Master whispered. He was about to say more, but he felt his bat pick up something with its echo vision. He stopped the others and whispered, "They are directly across from us, thirty feet away. Since the eagle hasn't done anything yet, we haven't passed their wards yet. I'm sending him out to scout now." The figure to their left suddenly took to the sky and stealthily returned back into sight. The three other animals formed a triangle around them. The eagle flew ahead of them before dropping. It landed on the ground and didn't move._

_The eagle suddenly exploded. It was a different kind of explosion, however, as there was no fire. Dirt flew up from a mini crater and landed on an invisible object. A scream was also heard. Shouts in German were heard as the figures covered in dirt moved into a formation. Shields sprang up around them. Suddenly, the two visible ones exploded into pillars of blood as they were crushed by gravity. Silence reigned in the clearing as it finished. The three SSC members held their ground, knowing that it wasn't over. That was only three members maximum. There were confirmed ten members per squad. The bat once again picked up something, but it was too late. A sickly green light shot from somewhere and headed straight for the group._

_Seconds before impact, the bear intercepted the light. Immediately, Thrall Master animated the corpse back into a living bear. A doughnut crater suddenly appeared around the group as Gravitas did an area of effect spell. It had a radius of ten feet. There were two pillars of blood in the doughnut. The group understood two things from that. One, there were five left, and two, everyone in the clearing would surely know that they were in the center of the ring. Sure enough, five beams of green light headed straight for them._

_They ran east, towards the transfigured lion. The beasts ran with them. Even with their moved position, there were three beams of light still heading for them: two from behind and one in front. They moved that way for a reason, however, as the bear took the two beams from behind and the lion took the one from the front. Without a moment's hesitation, the lion and bear were reanimated back into life. Judging by where the lights originated from, Aeolus threw Air Grenades at where he thought each person was. When they exploded, only two were confirmed kills._

_Suddenly, the entire area was covered in red glitter. The group and animals became visible, but so did the enemies. The eagle flew back to the group and rejoined the defending of the group. The glitter covered the ground, hiding the blood. Aeolus spoke without turning his attention away from the enemies, "Gravitas, this is your field of expertise."_

_The Stosstruppen grouped together and took up defensive positions. It proved futile; however, as they exploded into pillars of blood before they could fire a single spell. After confirming them dead, Thrall Master didn't waste any time. He immediately transfigured the other animals into bats and had them scan the region for other invisible people. They found none, and the group began its journey back into France to wait for the others._

_After a few minutes, Aeolus's squad was rejoined by Necro, Sub-Zero, and Zeus. They acknowledged each other's presence, but did not speak. Hours later, which wasn't surprising as there were 250 wizards to fight against with only four SCC members, Ghost and Sniper entered with two corpses. Inferno and Turtle were dead. Necro glanced at the corpses with a sad look before he said, "Alright, I want full battle reports. Aeolus, you first."_

_Aeolus nodded, not taking his eyes away from the disfigured Turtle or the ice encased Inferno. "We appeared just north of Paris, where we disillusioned ourselves. We moved into the hills where Thrall Master set up our parameter. We began moving again. Eventually, the bat picked up something in front of us, and we figured it was them. We sent the eagle out with an Air Bomb in its talons. When it landed, I set off the bomb. One was killed in the explosion. The dirt picked up from the bomb landed on two other Stosstruppen. Gravitas killed those two. Someone sent the AK at us, and the bear took the hit. Gravitas did the Doughnut, killing two more members. Seconds later, five more AK's were headed towards us. We moved position, and the bear and lion took the blows. I threw Air Bombs at the origins of each light, but only ended up killing two more. One of the soldiers must have panicked as someone cast the glitter spell, revealing all of our locations. The shockers grouped together, but Gravitas finished them off before they could begin an offensive. The transfigurations became bats that scanned the region. They found no one, so we returned here."_

"_Good. Only a few things that could have been done better, but other than that, good," Necro acknowledged. "For us, we apparated in the south, where we also disillusioned ourselves. When we got to a safe distance, Zeus did Thunder Storm. The first squad was completely obliterated. The second set up anti-disillusion wards. From there, we easily finished them. They were on top of a hill, laying flat on the ground and had a few shrubs in front of them. I'm guessing the shrubs were enchanted, but it didn't matter. Sub-Zero, being the beast he is, made an igloo around us, with the front being pure ice that we could see through. It helped against everything except the AK. The ice shield was layered, of course, around twenty times. That gave us more than enough time. Sub-Zero began to freeze the ground at the hill. The bushes froze over and died. The troops tried to cast fire spells, but Sub-Zero did the Cave and finished them off."_

_The Cave was when a dome of solid ice appeared over an area where stalagmites and stalactites formed and impaled anything inside. It was also layered so it was almost impossible to break out of as Sub-Zero could continuously make more layers and make the Cave in a single second, making it impossible to break through or live through._

_Sniper pulled off her mask and sat down with her back resting on a boulder. Her optic enhancer was also removed as she sighed. "It went well at first. Inferno's bombs were perfectly placed. I say around fifty were killed from those alone. When the Nazi's finally reached the two, they did basic army maneuver. Row one laid down, row two kneeled, row three fired, and row four short from over row three's shoulders. They were all AK's. It was like a Green wall approaching the duo. Turtle easily conjured the Shell. It held strong, and it was then vanished as Inferno did his attacks. Hell's Gate surrounded the army, and Hellfire erupted from inside. I say that killed around 150 more. About fifty were left standing, each having their shields up. I noticed that these weren't normal shields. They had the usual anti-fire, anti-water, anti-stun, and anti-summon up, but they had four shields that I had never seen before. They were light purple, black, grey, and teal. I still don't know exactly what each did, but I know what they did when working together. I tried to pick some of them off with some AK's, but they deflected the curse like it was a simple stunner. Ghost cloaked me and entered the fight. I tried other spells, but none seemed to work on those shields. It was like they were invincible. Ghost, however, had some luck. His Reapers were still able to pierce their shields, although he had to retreat after five minutes. There were still around thirty soldiers left. When Ghost came back, I saw why he retreated: his Reapers were barely visible. They were only two inches long. He had exhausted his magical core after only five minutes. He told me that what ever those shields were, it took way too much energy to penetrate. Taking the hint, I did compressed AK's, like his Reapers. They finally started piercing the shields. I could only fire off eight before I too got exhausted. Inferno and Turtle, meanwhile, were back inside the Shell. Inferno cast Lake of Fire, and not even that hurt the remaining twenty-two soldiers. The soldiers did something I've never seen before. They joined their wands together at the tips and aimed them towards the Shell. Together, they fired AK's that fired in one large beam that ate through the Shell like it wasn't the strongest shield in existence. They fired another curse, one I didn't know. A black serpent twisted through the air and entered the hole they made. From the other end, a corpse was thrown out. It was Turtle. The Shell crumbled, revealing a pissed off Inferno. He threw all his magic into one spell, THE spell. The pure energy disintegrated seven more soldiers before Inferno ran out of energy. The fifteen soldiers threw ice spell after ice spell, completely encasing Inferno in a solid block of ice. They then cast a lightning spell that shattered the ice. I knew that Inferno was dead, but that there were still soldiers that needed to be taken out. I quickly began firing off the compressed AK's and Ghost went back into the fight with his Reapers. We took out the rest of the soldiers. After that, we grabbed the corpses and returned here."_

_Necro sighed, "Never can prepare for the unexpected. I can't believe something broke through Turtle's Shield. Alright, bring out Turtle's and Inferno's notebooks. We can at least learn something from them." The notebooks of the two corpses were brought up from the safe, and the group read through the lives, training, and spells of the two members. Copies were made of both books and given to each member. They trained with the two members spells, and Thrall Master became the new Turtle._

_Yeah, that's about it,_ Voldemort finished. _We didn't get replacements. We simply dedicated someone else as something if it was important._

Harry thought it over for a second. Finally, he said, _There are many flaws in that story. You spoke of how good the Stosstruppen were, and yet you annihilated them like they were muggles. Second, you said Sub-Zero was the weakest, but Inferno sounded weaker than him. Plus, the Cave sounds unstoppable. How could you possibly stop it? Third, where are those 'notebooks' you spoke of?_

Voldemort sighed,_ We were anti-shock troopers - trained to make sure we stopped Stosstruppen. Plus, you may have noticed that there were absolutely no wards up, and our attacks broke through any shield. That's how we fought. For your second point, you need to understand even our weakest member was stronger than any other normal wizard. We were specialists. As for how to stop it, simple ice-thawing wards would make him utterly useless. As a matter of fact, only Necro and I had attacks that someone couldn't counter by a special ward or shield. Inferno also had THE spell. That was unstoppable, literally. We tested it. We each put up every anti light, heat, and fire ward known around a simple box. The box's wards were solid in color. Sub-Zero made the layered Igloo around it, followed by Turtle making FOUR Shells around it. Necro even summoned his shield. THE spell broke through all of that, and the mile behind the box, without any resistance. The spell was genius, and Inferno disserved second to last in score. Think about that._

Harry was silent, obviously thinking about the capabilities of Inferno's spell. He continued his interrogation, _So, you received Inferno's book. Where is it now? What happened to the other members? Gravitas?_

Voldemort sighed once again and let his thoughts dwell on the past. He sent images of each member's body being disfigured. _We are all just about dead. I'm sure that Ghost is still out there, but it would be impossible to find him, and if we did, we would never know it was him. Even then, he is just a shell of a man. That may or may not have been my fault._ Harry stayed silent, but Voldemort could feel his unasked question._He had a thing for Sniper. He didn't take her death well. That's all I'll say for now._

_And Necro? You said he was the strongest or best. What made him so special?_ Harry asked. _And what of the books? You said you got the books as each member died, so where are Inferno's and the rest's?_

_Necro well deserved first place in ranking. As for why, that's a story for another time. All the books, except for Gravitas's and Ghost's are in a safety deposit box covered in the most advanced wards known to man. I don't trust those to Gringott's, as I was anonymous when I placed them there and can get them while anonymous. I figured that even if I was the most wanted criminal on the planet, I could still pick them up. Seemed like a good idea then, and look at how it pays off now. When I come of age, I will go and get them. Due to specialized warding, I cannot remember a single thing found in those books._

_So, what's your big spell? What got you rank three?_

Voldemort sent some amusement over the link, _It was more based on how we got ranked. I'll tell you about it some time. I will tell you, however, that a twelve inched absolute zero Air Compression is much, _much_ more effective than a nuclear weapon and left me unconscious for two weeks._

_You'll have to send me the memory of that sometime. Now, back to the basics: what happened that made you swear revenge on Gravitas?_ Once again, before Voldemort could answer, Susan walked into the room.

She said with a smile on her face, "Breakfast is ready! Come down and eat with us." Voldemort nodded and dragged himself out of his bed. His silence masked the fact that he still was experiencing a nice amount of pain from his almost healed body. He also chose to ignore Harry's ranting about certain buildings Susan can jump off of.

Clothes, Voldemort realized, would be a problem. The ones on his back were simply rags and he had no others. He toyed with thoughts of transfiguring them into regular clothes, but that would raise unwanted questions and be potentially dangerous. He was about to head out the door when he saw a small pile of dark clothing to his left. It was a simple, plain, black shirt and pants. He blinked and put them on, surprised to find a perfect fit. He shrugged and began his journey of trying to find the kitchen.

When he reached his destination, he found a full breakfast feast in front of him. He turned to Amelia with a surprised look and she smiled softly. Voldemort sat down and she prepared a large plate for him. He thanked her and ate it at a controlled pace. Halfway through his meal, he said to Amelia, "Thank you for the clothing, by the way. They fit perfectly."

"I would hope so. I measured you while you were resting. After work, we are going shopping. I know the clothes we found you in were rags, but they were ill-fitting, oversized rags. I know the lack of a proper wardrobe when I see one," Amelia said with a knowing frown.

Voldemort didn't know what to do with the offer of kindness. He decided to reject it. "It's okay, Ms. Bones. You don't need to do that."

"Nonsense, child. I may not need to, but I want to," Amelia responded kindly.

"But I wouldn't be able to pay you back," Voldemort tried to reason.

"Money will not be a problem. Now stop arguing child, I am buying you clothes whether you like it or not," Amelia said firmly but with a smile. Voldemort sighed and gave in. They finished breakfast in silence.

After breakfast, Amelia bid them goodbye as she left to work. Almost immediately Susan confronted Voldemort. "Alright, let's start my wandless magic training!"

Voldemort nodded and asked if there was an empty room they could practice in. She immediately led him to the basement. Once there, Voldemort looked around and studied the training environment. There were a few boxes that they could use for training along with there being no windows. It was perfect, he figured. He stood at the center of the room and looked at her with a teacher type look on his face. He said, "Okay, there are three ways for me to teach you. One is based on theory that will make no sense and leave you confused and not knowing what to do, just like school." Susan giggled, remembering how what some of her teachers said at the muggle's school made absolutely no sense and they expected her to know what to do. "The second way is the 'reach inside and find your inner-self' way that also doesn't make much sense. The third way is my way... and you do NOT want my way." He pushed his glasses up in an arrogant teacher way and said, "We are going to do all three. You will not leave this basement until that box is floating over your head."

Susan gulped and nodded with determination. She said in a childish way, "Yes, Mr. Potter. I will do my best."

"You don't need to do your best; you just need to do it... Now, let's go over everything that won't make sense," He began. In a dull, collage professor type voice he said, "The theory behind the levitation spell is how the magic channeled from your core is used to repel the gravity waves and use that recoil to completely ignore Newton's law and lift the object in question. The first person to levitate someone was... Just kidding, I have no idea how this stuff works." Voldemort did a 'smile' and tried to play the ignorant child routine.

Susan sighed in relief. "Wow, I thought you expected me to know all that stuff! You do a really good 'boring collage profess' act too. Almost fell asleep."

"Thanks. Now, for what I do know, magic has more to do with control than 'will-power' or determination or anything like that. You need to feel your magic, push it out of your core, and command it to lift up the box. It took me some time to figure out how to do it and that was after I did it the first time. That's all the theory I can give. Now for the second way. I want you to find your magic. It will take a while for the first time, but after that, you will wonder how you ever didn't know about it in the first place."

Susan sat down and imitated the monk meditation look. She even began humming. Voldemort shook his head and also sat down. He once again began his Air Compression training. A solid ball of air that was about a centimeter thick appeared between his hands. Five seconds in, he was beginning to sweat. After fifteen seconds, he was breathing heavy, causing Susan to stop her 'meditation.' She saw the white crystal-like ball between his hands and giggled.

"I_knew_ you were doing magic at the park!"

Voldemort didn't answer as he felt the last of his magic slipping away. He released the force to the point where the air returned to liquid form, reducing the exhaustion rate. He let the water make patterns in the air before he hit zero and it exploded in a strong wind, making Susan jump back in fright. She asked him, "What was that? I thought it was water!"

Voldemort smiled mysteriously and said, "It was... Now back to work!" The sudden change in his tone caused Susan to flinch and try more seriously. After half an hour, she still hadn't found her core. Voldemort knew from experience that it would take a long time to find for someone who had never used magic before. She needed to feel magic to know where it came from. It was almost time for the third plan._Any second now,_ Voldemort told Harry, _and I will show you why I was never allowed to become a teacher for Hogwarts._ Harry didn't say anything, but Voldemort could tell he was paying attention.

Not long after, Susan gave a huff and said, "I can't _find_ anything!"

"Keep searching," Voldemort said nonchalantly, almost as if he was ignoring her. He didn't even look away from his spot of lying down and staring at the ceiling. Susan frowned and tried to say something, but Voldemort cut her off and said, "Just do it."

It went silent after that, only broken by a few sniffs as Susan tried to hold tears in. She tried focusing, but she couldn't with the urge to cry overwhelming her. She finally gave up and asked, "Can w-we do the th-third way please?"

Voldemort, still with his dismissive tone, answered, "No."

Susan sat there, and sorrow swelled in her chest. She tried once again to focus, but she grew frustrated as the sorrow distracted her. The frustration grew, trying to cover up the sorrow. Not used to feeling that way, she tried to suppress the feelings and asked in a broken voice, "Can y-you _please_ help me. Anything a-at all?"

"Figure it out yourself. Stop bothering me, I'm thinking," Voldemort said with a bit of anger. Susan recoiled and watched as Voldemort sat up but turned so his back was to her. The emotions broke through her weak hold and hit her full force. The frustration turned into anger and her face contorted into one of wrath.

_He's angry? He's angry! He's not the one who has to do this with no experience! He's not the one who has no help! HE SAID HE WOULD TEACH ME, AND HE JUST TURNS HIS BACK TO ME! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!_ Susan thought to herself with raising anger. While she was ranting, Voldemort was pumping his regenerated magic into her core, temporally increasing its size. It grew into that of an average forth year's when she finally exploded. "HOW DARE YOU TURN YOUR BACK TO ME?!" She unconsciously levitated a box and banished it into him. It hit Voldemort square in the back, but since it was empty it harmless bounced back to the floor. In her anger, she summoned it back and banished it again. She kept repeating this, even after Voldemort had turned around and tried calming her.

After about two minutes of venting, Susan once again caught a hold of her emotions. Her face was flushed with anger and she was breathing heavily. Her hands were still curled into tight fists. The once square box was dented and more spherical. Voldemort, even after all the hits, looked no worse than wear. He had raised a small anti-missile shield as defense whenever the box got close. It was small and close enough to the point where Susan couldn't tell that he had raised it. His magic, however, was hovering at a staggering twenty-five percent.

Voldemort was 'smiling' on the inside, _Do you see now? My methods are very effective, but not 'ethnically correct' and so I only taught determined students._ Harry sent a mental agreement. On the outside, Voldemort was watching her with 'cautious' eyes and acted like he was in pain. He touched a spot on his arm and faked a wince. He asked in an empty voice, "Are you done yet?" She didn't answer. "If you are, you may now notice that you can levitate things, along with summoning them, and let's not forget that you can attack viciously with boxes."

Susan's angry face melded into one of confusion. She looked down to her hands and uncurled them. She pointed one at a box and lifted up with her hand. Without hesitation, the box ascended and moved where her hand commanded it. Her face broke into a smile as she squealed and jumped for joy. She ran up and hugged Voldemort, thanking him, before running around trying to see what else she could levitate. Voldemort shivered after she hugged him, still feeling awkward and needing to get used to hugs. It wasn't long before Susan turned onto him with a mischievous look and tried to levitate him. He got about a foot off the ground before he suddenly dropped.

Voldemort landed onto his back hard, wincing in pain. He glared murderously at the girl who was currently staring at her hands and wondering why she could no longer lift things off the ground. While trying to control his anger, he sat back up, clutching his back and said in a controlled voice, "You are out of magic. In a few hours, you should have regained it back." He didn't tell her that she had actually only ran out of the magic that he gave her. She would know where her core was now, but she hasn't learned to pull her own magic out.

Thinking quick on how to get her to begin taking her own magic, he informed her, "A trick I learned is that you can pull out more magic by reaching further inside your core. Try it... You do know where it is now right?"

Susan nodded eagerly. She closed her eyes in concentration again and after a few seconds, the box began levitating again. It only rose for about ten seconds before it fell to the ground with a dull sound. She was breathing hard again and asked, "Why was that so much harder?"

Voldemort already had the lie laid out, "When you are angry, or overwhelmed by any emotion, it takes control of your magic and makes it much easier. I noticed that a long time ago when my cousin placed all my belongings at a place where I couldn't reach. I ran out of magic after the fifth thing and in my frustration I began to get a huge surge of power and was able to get the rest down." Susan accepted the answer, and they began to talk about more casual things. That meant Susan would ask casual questions and Voldemort would struggle to answer as best as he could.

Less than thirty minutes later, Susan's non-existent reserves were back, and she once again began casting spells. Voldemort would give out pointers on to exert less magic when casting the spell. She still quickly taxed herself and ran out of magic. She had almost passed out that time, so Voldemort recommended she ate something. Susan weakly nodded and walked back up the stairs while dragging her feet. Voldemort let out a sigh. He figured that teaching was almost as satisfying as learning new spells. He ignored Harry's jab on his romantic interests, implying that he actually only enjoyed the presence of young Susan Bones.

Something in the back of Voldemort's mind rose to the surface. He asked Harry, _Speaking of encounters, was there any change in my pulsing after this exchange?_ Curiosity was the mask for the true purpose. Although he wouldn't admit it, although he had banished all traces of the thought, although it was impossible for him to even think about, buried deep down, Voldemort hoped that his rate would increase for the simple fact that he could use that as an excuse to stay close with Susan. That thought, however, was held in captivity by the icy cage that restrained his hollow heart and fragmented soul.

Harry, with all his teasing and jibes, had the feeling that Voldemort was hiding such a thought. He would never admit it, but he hoped that Voldemort would someday make friends with people and live a relatively normal life. That hoped was dwarfed by his want for Voldemort to see his dream come true. The ministry needed to be revised, and it needed something like Voldemort to begin such a process. A dictatorship that Voldemort had set his ambitions to seemed highly improbable, unless he held true to muggle extinction. It seemed strange to Harry how he could side with the very person who slaughtered his parents. Sure, Voldemort had understandable reasons, but wasn't one supposed to honor their parents even after death? He figured it had to do with the fact that Voldemort had been the one to 'raise' and 'teach' him, and that his actual relatives had only the worst intentions in mind.

Harry pushed all the contemplative thoughts from his head as he gathered his focus and answered Voldemort in a mischievous voice, _Oh yes. It seems that your growing feelings for young Miss Bones have had its impact. Not as drastic, I'm afraid, as your moment of 'love at first sight,' but a nice hefty ten percent on your 130 percent totaling you at 143 percent pulse rate. Very nice. Doing the math that I'm finding that I am quite good at, I'll say that your recovery time with food is now at an hour and forty-five minutes, but with your increase in reserve size, I'll say about an hour and fifty minutes. That is relative to your old recovery time of two hours and a half, now which would be two hours and thirty-seven minutes._

_I'm not going to ask how you did that math, but I am going to trust it. So, going by your statistical expertise, I am pretty much half recovered, but taking out my twenty percent limiter that would be a forty of eighty percent recovery totaling me at sixty percent, yes?_ Voldemort asked with amusement. He enjoyed simple math conversations.

Harry let mock depression seep through the link, _And here I was thinking that I was a genius trapped and a normal man's mind. It seems I get my arithmetic prowess from one as low as _you_. How disappointing... Well, Aeolus, let's go eat with the object of your affections shall we?_

_Legilimens,_Voldemort whispered in deathly silence. A mental shard pierced the unprotected mind of Harry Potter with more pain than a Cruciatus Curse. Of course, he lifted it after only a second, but the pain it brought was enough to get the point across. _Those were strike two and three. Now, let's go and eat shall we?_ The agonized moans of Harry were his only answer. Secretly, Voldemort was also in pain. Harry was crafty to send all the pain he felt across the link in retaliation. His Occlumency shields blocked most of the pain, but he didn't escape unscathed.

The party of two continued up the stairs and into the kitchen where they found Susan finishing up a meal that should have been to big for one of her size. Voldemort shook his head at the sheer amount that she could consume and helped himself to a slice of bread and an apple. He let amusement wash over him in a lone wave as he remembered the stories that claimed that he would eat slaughtered babies and drink blood containing powdered bones. Just because one's evil doesn't mean they can't eat healthy.

The two are in relative silence, only broken by the few random questions asked by Susan. He asked Harry in an incredulous voice, _How am I supposed to know what I'll be doing this weekend and if I'll enjoy it? Does she even think of what she is asking before she asks?_

"Uh... This weekend... I'll uh... I'll probably return to the Dursley's and... maybe... go to... the park?" Voldemort answered uncertainly. Harry simply laughed in the background, but he hadn't said anything since the mind blast.

"Great!" Susan exclaimed happily, "I'll try to meet you there. Then we can talk about what we want to be when we grow up and what our favorite colors are!"

"Um, can't we do that now?" Voldemort asked uncertainly. This was beginning to weird him out. Did all 'friends' talk to each other like this?

Susan looked at him as if he grew another head and it was facing backwards. "Oh heavens no! We still need to talk about Elementary School, what you think of magic, if you think you'll get into Hogwarts, what life is like at your house, what I do in my spare time, and we also need to continue my wandless magic training."

Voldemort groaned when he noticed the training was at the end of that list. How could people talk so much? Where is the protection of secrets he grew up with? The fear of those around you and the unwavering paranoia that seemed to follow everyone around? Those were the good ol' days. _At least she expressed SOME interest in the yearning for improvement,_ he tried to reason. Harry just snickered in response.

Hours later, after going through something that reminded Voldemort of Distraction Training in the SSC – a time when one would have to carry on a conversation for hours and not lose concentration or perception of the things going around them - Susan finally reached the point where she asked to continue in her training. He gave a sigh of relief as he agreed and moved back into the basement. Before doing so, he asked if he had a soccer ball or a Quaffle. Surprisingly, she only had a soccer ball. He set it down in the center of the basement and marked goal post on both sides of the room.

"We are going to play a game," Voldemort began, "a game that involves magic. We are going to levitate the ball and fight for dominance. The objective is to get the ball into the posts. First to ten points wins. Remember, when fighting for dominance, quick, strong burst of magical burst would be better than a constant, weak stream. Understand?" Susan nodded. "Ready, set, Go!"

Immediately, the ball floated into the air. Voldemort focused on holding it in place, testing her strength. He felt average ranked bursts try to move the ball, but it held still. Susan frowned and Voldemort could feel her pump out a lot of magic for one with reserves so small. He didn't expect what happened next. An explosion of fire erupted with a loud bang next to the ball. Voldemort had no time to notice the ball fly into the goal as the flames tried to consume the duo. Voldemort instantly wrapped them in an anti-fire ward and cursed slightly.

Because of the miniscule reserves, the flames didn't last long. When it ended, Voldemort lowered the ward and surveyed the area. All the walls were scorched, with the support beams still smothering. Smoke filled the air. Susan lay passed out from magical exertion, and was in moderate risk of suffocation from the smoke. Voldemort cast the Bubblehead charm on himself and Susan and levitated her out of the room to safety. Once she was gone, he focused on compressing the smoke. A black liquid ball that was about eight inches thick hovered between his hands. He carried the ball up the stairs and sent it out a window. He spread the liquid out over a distance of twenty feet before he released it slowly; making sure that there wasn't a suspicious amount of smoking rising above the house.

Voldemort went cold suddenly. His ears began taking in all the sounds around him, even his slowed breathing and rapid heartbeat. He closed his eyes, knowing what was going on. It took a while to pick up, but he finally heard it: the silent marching of a group. Only one group marched like that. Only one group marched disillusioned and in a prowler's saunter. Elite Death Eater's... specifically_Bellatrix's_ Elite Death Eaters. Voldemort backed at an angle, still focusing on the sounds. Silent as Death, he descended to the floor, out of sight from the window. He magically enhanced his hearing, taking in any signs of dialogue. All he could gather was that Antonin was in command, his heavy steps not in sync with the Elites.

Voldemort felt magic molesting the air around him. It touched everything, scanning and disregarding any object it came in contact with. Voldemort could feel it getting closer to him. It was heavy tracking magic. He sat up; his back pressed against the wall with the window as to still stay out of sight. He went through a long and complicated warding spell. He cast a cutter on his finger, drawing blood. From there, he smeared blood on each of his fingers and began chanting in an archaic tongue, the processor of Latin. The cut healed, and the smeared blood burned bright red and pealed of his fingers. The finger prints formed a pentagon that expanded and spread until it surrounded the house.

Once the ward was secure, Voldemort sighed and slouched over. That was ancient blood magic, now probably seen as dark. It completely stopped any source from tracing whatever was protected. It was draining, however, even with the blood being used as a medium. He guaranteed that no third year Hogwarts student could cast such a spell around a whole house, unless he or she was abnormally talented and gifted with extraordinary reserves. Even with his ability to use less magic for greater effect, something that can only happen from masterful control, he was exhausted and had expelled the greater part of his reserves. He knew that he would be protected from the tracer, but if they decided to investigate in person, he wouldn't be able to last long.

Voldemort resumed listening to the nonexistent conversations of the group. He was relieved to hear them speak, but that only confirmed his worries and he began to brainstorm possible escape plans while listening. "Wait a second," someone muttered – probably the one to cast the spell, "this house is refusing my tracer. We should probably investigate."

Antonin spoke up in a harsh voice, "Of course it's rejecting the scanner, you fool. Do you know whose house that is?" The other man must have denied as he then said, "It belongs to the Amelia Bones. That thing probably has enough wards to fight us off without her lifting a finger. Ever wonder why the Dark Lord never attacked her with a full-scale assault on her home?"

A cocky member spoke up, "I heard that was because he had a thing or two for the very single Miss Bones. I heard that they went to school together, even." A few others laughed at that. Voldemort had another cold feelings trickle down his spine. Little did he know that his Death Eaters had just given him something that could inevitable make his life hell. A hidden figure grinned wickedly, already thinking of the possibilities.

"That's enough!" Antonin snapped. "It's true that Amelia and our Master went to school together and were often partners, however, they never had a _thing_. Now if you would put your mind back on the matter at hand we can find the bloody boy and get back before sunset."

Voldemort heard the group move on and finally let out the breath he had been holding in. He went back to Susan sent a weak shocking spell. The girl snapped awake and looked at Voldemort with confused eyes. She asked, "W-what happened?"

Voldemort sighed and said, "You slipped a little bit. You blew up the basement and ran out of energy." Susan went wide-eyed at that and sped to the basement to see what she had done.

"No... No. No. No! NO!" Susan whined. "I'm going to be in so much trouble!"

Voldemort looked at her, baffled. Wasn't she glad to still be alive after an experience like that? Why would she be worried about what someone else thought? He decided to ask her. "Aren't you happy to at least be alive?"

Susan had tears leaking. She asked in a helpless voice, "How can I be happy when I'm going to be killed?"

Voldemort twitched. "Um, at least you won't be burned alive?" Susan only cried harder at that, leaving Voldemort in an awkward position. After some heavy suggestions by Harry, he reluctantly – with the utmost hesitation, resolving around curiosity, and only wishing for the crying to go away – Voldemort wrapped his arms around her in the same way she did for him and said in the nicest voice possible, "It's going... to be... okay? I'm sure she would... kill you for burning a room. I'm sure it will be easy to fix with magic. It's okay, calm down." His voice had gained more confidence with each sentence. He responded to Harry's 'how cute' remark with a two second mind shard.

Susan calmed down relatively quickly, relaxing into Voldemort's hold. Amusement washed over him as a stray thought entered into his head. _I wonder what the people would think if they knew that I, the Dark Lord Voldemort... hugging the child of one of my greatest enemies. Now that would bring some real chaos and disorder into the world._ He filed the thought away in the 'Psychological Advantages' part of his mind.

After a minute or so, Susan broke out of Voldemort's 'hug'. She thanked him shyly and said, "Maybe your right. It will probably be easy to fix with magic." She paused for a second, and Voldemort saw the Ravenclaw side of her pop out again. "Do you think we would be able to fix it before she got back? I'm sure you have some experience in these matters."

Voldemort squinted at her with cautious eyes. He formed a careful answer in his mind and said in a protected voice, "I might be able to clean up a bit... but I can't completely fix it. And, when you say 'we', I hope you don't include yourself as it might involve a second occurrence."

The Ravenclaw mindset didn't leave Susan as she replied, "You said that wandless magic was simply a command over the magic you push out. Can't you just pull a lot out and command it to 'clean' and have it done in a jiffy?"

_Smart girl,_ Voldemort heard Harry say before he responded honestly, "Yes, but I would need to be more specific or else something like the explosion might happen again. I would need to understand _how_ my magic would be able to erase the char on the walls and reconstruct the wooden beams and then command it to do so. Clean is just too vague, so I might just end up making a big explosion of Mr. Clean splash everywhere." Of course, no one had to tell her that he actually was actually able to completely clean the room. At least the statement was true.

Susan sighed and lost the look. She said, "I see. How unfortunate." She suddenly perked up. "Speaking of unfortunate, have you every heard of the book series Series of Unfortunate Events?" Voldemort stared blankly at the sudden change in subject.

A few hours later, Amelia returned from work. She was completely shocked to see Susan actually levitating things like she had been doing it for years. Before actually confronting the 'kids', she turned back to the fireplace and fire called Dumbledore. After a few seconds, the old man's face appeared in the flames. He calmly waited for her to speak.

"Professor Dumbledore," Amelia began, slightly hesitant, "something spectacular has happened. As I told you before, Susan and I found Harry Potter beaten and broken at the park. After we returned him here and he woke up, I explained the magical world to him with a few bumps and bruises. However, I found that he had an extraordinary magical reserve size and that he was perfectly capable of using wandless magic. He has a natural talent for it. Here comes the really interesting part. Susan had asked for him to teach her. He agreed, and they began the 'lessons' today. And now, returning home, I see Susan levitating things like a pro. To think that she hasn't even cast a single spell before, let alone with a wand, and now is using wandless magic. There is something truly special about that boy, Professor. What are your thoughts on this?"

Dumbledore was silent for a second, although he had an intrigued smile on his face. He finally said, "That is spectacular. I will evaluate the boy myself sometime in the near future. For now, I must handle the case of the missing Boy-Who-Lived and then I will get to you as soon as possible. Farwell."

Amelia watched the face vanish and the flames extinguish a casual death. She sighed and turned around... only to find 'Harry' staring at her with intense eyes. He asked her, "How was that man in the fire?"

Amelia smiled gently and answered, "That was Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. I was just telling him about how amazing it was that you taught Susan how to use magic. I must say, I am impressed."

Voldemort faked an embarrassed smile, "Thank you, Ma'am." Just then, Susan walked into the room. She stopped moving and looked down at the floor.

Curious as to why Susan was acting like that, Amelia said, "Susan, I'm so proud of you. Why do you look so sad? You should be happy that you can do such a rare form of magic." Susan looked up and made eye contact before flinching and looking back down. Amelia frowned, "Did something happen?"

Voldemort decided to intervene, "She just afraid because of an accident in the basement. She made one mistake. That's all."

Amelia looked to Voldemort, missing Susan shoot a nervous look at Voldemort. "What happened?"

"It might be best to show you," Voldemort said in a plain voice.

He led the group into the basement. Amelia looked around and asked, "What's the problem here?" Susan looked up in confusion. Wasn't Amelia supposed to be angry with the mess she caused? Instead of the charcoal covered room with the destroyed roof beams, there was a spotless floor, normal walls, and freshly varnished beams. It looked even better than before.

Voldemort let off a playful laugh, "See what I mean? Her mistake removed all the dust from the room, and yet she was afraid. Sounds so silly to me." Susan looked at him with wide eyes. She saw a playful look in his eyes and understood what he had done. She gave him the most thankful look possible and let out a huge sigh of relief.

Amelia looked at her 'daughter' with happiness and pride reflecting off her face. "Susan, honey, I have never been more proud of you. Not only have you done what was recently seen as impossible, but you also managed to clean the house! What can be better than that?" She swooped down and hugged the exuberant girl.

Voldemort watched the pair with passive eyes and was in the middle of a conversation with Harry. _Why did you do that?_ Harry asked, the mischief all but gone. _Why would you do something so... human?_

Voldemort didn't answer for a second, merely observing the happiness spread between the two. He finally said,_ I was repaying an old debt. A very old debt._

XXXXXXXX

Elsewhere, in a dark cell, a woman rocked back in forth. Goosebumps had broken out from the chilling feelings that sank down to her very core. That wasn't all she felt, however, as a deep loss had penetrated the area that once held her heart. She had long since considered it gone, but the loss of her husband had painfully reminded her that no matter how many times she told herself that it wasn't true, her heart still beat defiantly and with a purpose. It was a constant reminder that she was human and always would be. No matter how obvious, one would lose count to how many times she had forgotten that fact while waiting to rot in that dark cell.

A gruff voice, one laden in pain and misery called to her from behind the wall, "Well, well, cousin. I hear that a certain someone was killed recently by a ten year old child. My godson to be exact."

The woman scowled as rage surged though her core, temporarily banishing traces of coldness from her mind. "Shut it, foolish blood-traitor. You know not what you speak of."

Despite her heated words, neither could deny the fact and that pierced her chest deeply. The man laughed heartedly at that. It was mad laughter, the only kind found at such a place. Happiness was not the cause of such an expression, oh no. Happiness couldn't be found there. Not that it was hiding or was hard to achieve while sad, but physically and mentally impossible as ghostly beings known as simply Dementers feasted on happiness and leached it away from those near them. That led the laughter to be based on something else. That something could be a variety of things, the most common being madness. But in this particular case, the satisfaction of knowing that justice was served was enough to bring on the long forgotten experience of laughter.

* * *

Hello there. Quick notes for more reads in author's notes, yes? Oh yeah, I didn't have time to edit this so please point out my errors. 

Well... pairings options so far...

Amelia/Susan Bones (can only choose one or the other. Of course, if you choose Amelia, I will let her have some sort of spell to lower her age)

Bellatrix (but don't worry about this yet as I have yet to formally introduce her)

Well... pairings that will NOT happen for sure...

As I am a guy, NO gay pairings.

No Ginny

No Hermione (Over done)

Most parents won't be an option (IE Ron's mom, Hermione's mom, Alice Longbottom, Harry's mom)

_Edit at 4:17 2-27-08 below..._

_I got a couple of complaints on Sirius being in prison. While this is slightly AU, it still has a rough following of cannon. While they know Sirius is innocent, he was still sent to Azkaban without a trail. Bellatrix calls him a blood traitor because he backed out of the family and opposed her Lord, a sign to her that he supports muggles, making him a blood traitor. I hope that clears some things up for you. _


	4. The Seed

The Seed has been planted. Water it with Tears of Sorrow and it will grow into a Tree of Wrath.

* * *

A man was sitting down, his back against a rock. He was a wizard, noticeable by his crimson robes. The rock was on a grassy hill, giving a peaceful look to the scene. The man was holding a leather-bound book that looked relatively new. It had to of been charmed to stay new looking, however, as the crease had a dull glow to it. There were six books stacked that were similar to the first book. They were all black with simple, silver titles on them. The titles were all a single word. The one the man was holding was called Necro.

The man smiled at something while reading. The smile broke into full blown laughter as he continued reading. "Now that's a failure if I ever saw one," the man said, apparently to himself. His laughter slowly died down, but he didn't lose the smile. He began flipping through the pages, obviously done with whatever he was reading. He stopped on a page and his eyes lit up. He began listing off ingredients. "Powdered ogre bones, squished ogre eye, dried ogre blood, biofruit extract, and aged polyjuice potion. No matter how many times I make this, I will always wonder how he came up with this potion. Must have liked ogres." He suddenly broke into another fit of laughter.

The man stood up, stretching slightly to help loosen up the muscles. He pulled of his cloaking, revealing a muscled chest and more. Jagged scars cut into the man's chest. Some were burns, some cuts, but that thing that stood out was the words carved just above his stomach that read "I WILL SPEAK". The man seemed to take no notice of the past wounds as he finished stretching and slung a wand out of a wrist wand holster. He had eight wands total, each different. There was a wrist wand holster on each wrist, two sheaths on his waist, two on his back that were held in an X pattern, and a pair that were tried onto each leg like a military knife. His black pants were baggy, but they held a military look to them.

The man sat down on the rock, just as a rumbling began. From the bottom of the hill, a beast began marching up it with no destination. It had tan skin, one eye, and was at least ten feet tall. It was also very fat. The most particular thing was that it was carrying a large club – well more of a tree. It carried it with ease, hinting that it had some heavy duty strength to back up its size. A simple loin cloth covered its modesty.

The man, still on the rock, called out, "You there, ogre, you wouldn't happen to have a spare bone, blood, and eye that I could have?"

The ogre stopped its marching and turned to the man in confusion. It asked in an unintelligent voice, "You talk me?" It pointed a large finger at itself for reference.

The man nodded, a wicked smile adorning his face. "Yes, you. You see, I need an ogre bone, eye, and blood. I think I'll take them from you."

The ogre took a second to think about it, before his face clouded in anger. He yelled in a booming voice that caused critters to scatter, "I no give! You leave! No kill that's way!"

"I'm sorry, maybe we got off on the wrong foot," The man said in the same arrogant voice he used before. The grin still stretched across his face. "What is your name?"

The ogre completely dropped its anger and replied obliviously, "I Rockmuncher. You?"

"I am known simply as Gravitas. Now you see, Rockmuncher, I wasn't asking if you'll give me the ingredients. I'm going to take them from you."

Rockmuncher got angry again. He scowled as he said, "You stay, I kill!"

The man did a mock pout, "Why Rockmuncher, I didn't know you felt that way about me. I can see when I'm not wanted. It seems I'll have to... _Deprimo!_" Instantly, the tree fell out of Rockmuncher's hands and embedded into the ground.

The ogre starred dumbly at his hand, wondering where his club went. Noticing it was the man's fault, he charged the man in blind rage. The man said the same spell again, but this time, the ogre stopped moving. It took a while for Rockmuncher to notice, but he eventually found he could no longer lift his legs. It was like they were thousands of pounds heavier. After a second of looking around dumbly, Rockmuncher noticed that he somehow was in a crater. Using limited knowledge, he lurched his body to the side. He fell out of the crater easily and instantly reentered the world of normal gravity.

Rockmuncher got back up and once again charged the man. The man smiled and left himself wide open for the punch the ogre delivered. Rockmuncher's foot thick fist slammed into his chest with the power of a bus. The man flew off the rock, into the air. The blow took him back twenty feet, past the slop of the hill, where he fell another thirty feet down and landed hard, making a natural crater.

Rockmuncher looked down at the crater and said, "See! You fault, no mine. I warn." He turned around and began to walk away, completely missing how the man got back up.

The man grinned madly and whispered, "Deprimo." Everything beneath the ogre's head was crushed to the ground, forming a pillar of blood and gore. The head landed cleanly on the ground, a confused look on the face. He walked back up the hill, brushing dust off his chest. He picked up his robe, put his wand back, and slipped back into his robes. He looked at the ogre's corpse and whistled. The crater it was in was ten feet long, nothing special, but it was also fifteen feet deep.

The man jumped down into the crater. The landing was hard, but it didn't seem to affect his body at all. He noticed some blood got on his boots and cleaned them. He muttered a temporary charm that would prevent them from getting dirty. He advanced through the crater, making slight squish sounds with the blood he stepped on and the occasional organ. There was a lot of blood in the crater. The sticky substance filled about an inch of it. He got down to the head and did the dirty work.

The man reached inside and pulled at the eye. The nerves connecting it to the brain snapped and the first sized organ filled his hands. He pulled out a knife and began cutting off the red tissue on the back. He put the eye in a pouch and moved on. He picked up the head and began cutting strips of skin off. With every dull grinding sound, flaps of tan skin would fall to the bloody ground with a wet smacking sound. Eventually he got to the point where it was just the skull with blood smeared around it. He ripped off the lower jaw with a snap and threw it behind him. He reached inside and began feeling around for something. He jerked his hand out, clutching the still gooey brain. Noticing that it was beginning to harden into the more rubbery form, he threw it into a charmed timeless sack. Satisfied with the preserved brain, he pulled out the eye and returned it to its rightful place in the bloody skull. He slipped that into the eye's original pouch and disapparated out of the crater.

XXXXXXXX

Voldemort awoke in the disturbingly pink room. He didn't mind the color, but it was just... so much. The trip for shopping for clothes was put on hold until today, so he would be glad to finally get into familiar clothing. Although he wasn't one to care about what he wore, he felt more comfortable with his old robes. They were an ingenious design by Madam Malkin, Professor Flitwick, and, of course, himself. The question, however, was how he was going to ask for them. One simply couldn't ask for Spider-Silk, Resizing, Camouflaging, Self-Repairing, built in wrist wand holster, Untraceable, Basic Spell Repellent, and Sixteen Elements Warded Robes with a hidden timeless sack and never-ending pouch sown inside. Of course, they were simply known as Spider Armor as to confuse people of its capabilities.

Several courses of action appeared in the mind of Voldemort. He could give a description of what he wanted, trying to sound innocent as possible, or give an inconspicuous note saying that 'someone' recommends the robes for 'Harry' along with enough galleons to pay for it. He could keep refusing robes, giving little details that fit for the Spider Armor until she finally brings them out. He could polyjuice it and ask for them under recommendation. He could just send in a mail order under his usual name and ask for it delivered to his post box. Picking it up, however, would be hard if he was shopping with Amelia.

He got dressed in the basic clothes that Amelia made for him, still surprised at how well they fit. He sat down and pulled some magic out of his core, letting it flow over him. It was an addicting feeling – to bathe in raw power and let it take a hold of oneself. It could fix or destroy, create or kill. Just knowing that was enough to start a desire for such a power. Voldemort kept releasing magic, letting it seep into his body and filling up his spirit. It filled in the missing pieces of his fragmented soul and gave him a feeling of completeness. As suddenly as it overtook him, it left. Voldemort shook his head and stood up, returning his magic back into his core. His soul broke back into the small sliver and emptiness took a hold of him once again. It was only a temporary relief. Never again would he completely be free. Immortality had its price. He always considered that no price was too much, but now, in the midst of never again feeling complete emotions and always having the tugging of the soul, always reminded that never again would he feel love or happiness, always reminded that he was no longer himself, only a simple fragment, it may have been a costly mistake. He shook his head, dropping the subject. It was the thinking that was killing him, not the rewards.

Voldemort 'enjoyed' a large meal with the Bones women before they set out to Diagon Alley. They went through the traditional Leaky Cauldron path, with Voldemort feigning surprise and amazement the whole way. When they finally reached the alley, Voldemort convinced them that they should split up by saying that they had better things to do and that he could most likely figure things out by the names. It was easier than he thought to convince Amelia that a ten year old child go move about alone. The only draw back, however, was that she agreed to split up only after they made a stop at Gringotts.

Voldemort cursed to himself when they entered the ancient building, feeling the wards tickle his core. He began preparations. _Harry, time to come out. This place has some of the highest level identifiers, some going as far as to identify the soul of a person. I'll guide you through conversations, but you need to act natural. You probably won't go through heavy conversations, but just feign the child ignorance and you should be fine._

Harry yawned, as if he wasn't listening,_ Why are you so worried? If I won't go through heavy conversations, there will be no problem._

_Why Harry, has nothing I said reached you? Golden Rule for anything is prepare for the worst and hope for the best,_ Voldemort said as he gave command of the body to Harry. The exchange was subtle, noticeable by a slight change in the pace of walking and the more human expression on the face. Harry stretched a bit, happy to be back in his body. It was a rare occurrence, and every time was enjoyable. He planned to enjoy it but wouldn't allow himself to slip up.

They approached a goblin. Voldemort recognized him as Jadeshank. He was one of the more easy going goblins, but he was better than most at what he did. Very reliable, very easy. He even had connections through most of the black market. He was the only goblin, or person besides Harry, to know the connections between Aeolus and Tom Riddle. As a matter of fact, he could even tell the goblin of the body switch with the recoiled spell and not reach 'potentially dangerous'. He would probably talk to Jadeshank later on that day. He could use the resources the goblin provided in the near future.

"Greetings," Amelia began, "I'm here to check the family vaults and have young Harry Potter here see his for the first time."

Jadeshank seemed surprised. "Mister Potter?" he asked in a slow voice, hiding his emotions well. He squinted and took in the image of the boy-savior. "A... pleasure to meet you, Mister Potter. I am Jadeshank" He held out his hand in a formal way of greeting.

_Squeeze his hand twice, say likewise, and call him Jade. It will look weird to Amelia, but he'll catch on instantly,_ Voldemort commanded urgently. He seemed almost excited, like being reunited with a long lost friend. In a way, he was. The interesting part, however, was that he really couldn't get that excited. It exceeded his emotional capacities.

Harry took the goblins hand and squeezed it once firmly. He said, "Likewise, Jade." He squeezed it again before letting go. Amelia looked at him strangely, as did Susan. That was very casual for a muggle raised person reacting to a goblin.

Jadeshank hid his surprise well, taking it all into stride. "I prefer you didn't refer to me with such casual speech."

_Apologize, tell him about jade being a precious stone and if he liked such a stone,_ Voldemort continued.

Harry listened diligently. "I'm sorry, Mister Jadeshank. I thought that you would like a name that refers to a precious stone like jade because of stereotypes."

Voldemort cursed, _Too smart, you fool! Stereotypes? What ten-year-old knows stereotypes?_ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _When he replies, it doesn't matter what he says, just ask if there are any empty jobs at Gringotts. The number he gives will be the room we go in when we come back._

"It is quite alright, Mister Potter, as you are new to the wizarding world. Is there anything you would wish to know about Gringotts before we continue?" Jadeshank asked in an even tone, but Voldemort could see a hidden whirlwind thrashing behind the pale skin of the goblin.

"I don't know why I'm curious, but are they any empty jobs here?" Harry asked in a curious voice. He had a rough time ignoring the bewildered looks of Susan and Amelia. He found that focusing his attention on the goblin helped a little.

"Yes, actually. There are exactly forty-three jobs open currently," Jadeshank answered with a business smile. "Now, if you would follow me please, I will take you to your vault, Mister Potter. Griphook will be here shortly to help you, Madam Bones. There are several things that Mister Potter must do in order to finalize his ownership over his accounts. If you had plans for something soon, it would be best to finish them instead of waiting, as this will take some time. Follow me please, Mister Potter."

Harry followed after the goblin onto one of the motorized carts. With a jerk, the cart sped off. Harry gave a whoop of exhilaration as the cart swerved around corners. Even Voldemort felt the thrill of the cart ride. The cart whizzed to a stop in front of a plain vault door. At Harry's questioning look, Jadeshank grinned.

"You Potters were not much for the fancy vaults. You just wanted to pass by in life. Nothing Redfang said could change their minds," Jadeshank paused for a second. "Redfang was and most likely will continue to be your financial advisor."

"Is it possible to get a switch?" Harry asked.

Jadeshank grinned wickedly. "Oh yes, but I would not do that if I were you. It is an insult to a goblins intelligence and ability. You would need some good reasoning for that; especially since us goblins are known for our swift and thorough methods of revenge." Harry gulped slightly, finally noticing how menacing goblins really look. "Now, let us enter your inheritance, shall we?" He produced a key and unlocked the door.

Piles amongst piles of gallons were stacked inside. It glittered beautifully in the artificial light. Harry took a step forward to the point right before the entrance. Although he couldn't feel it, Voldemort told him that the doorway was locked down with hundreds of wards. He said that magic was heavy in there. Harry took a step forward.

Voldemort hissed in pain when a sharp stabbing pierced him in every nerve that he no longer had. He sent a brief flash of it to Harry who almost yelped as he jumped backwards. Voldemort took a deep breath as the pain lifted and gave an abridged report, _outer layers were anti-Polyjuice, transfiguration, __Imperius, and summoning. That was followed by anti-apparition, portkey, and... Time-Turner. For identification, they had body scans, mind scans, magical core scans, and – like I thought – a soul scan. As you were in control, we got past that too. Behind that they had trigger-action wards. That's the things that do the real damage if you don't check out with the identification or tried to break in. But the interesting thing was that they had an anti-linked mind ward tossed in there. Even more so was that the trigger-action ward was a Cruciatus Curse._

_I can't be sure, but I think that you weren't keyed to the wards when you were a child, so when you are we won't need to worry about that. I think your parents didn't because you qualify for everything in there besides the linked-mind, something that I'm sure they didn't expect you to have. I'm sure Jadeshank noticed and will know what to do. However, since we are outside of a vault, we are under surveillance by security, so keep up the act. You should know what to do. _Voldemort left things to Harry with a frustrated sigh. His thoughts were a whirl and running faster than most could comprehend. To save Harry from the dozens of simultaneous thoughts in his head, Voldemort brought up his Occlumency shields.

Harry sent a mental agreement and said to the goblin, "I think something's wrong. As soon as I stepped in I felt a sharp pain. Is there any way that the magic surrounding this doesn't recognize me? Like if I wasn't recorded as an owner before my parents died?"

The goblin put a pondering look on his face; one that Voldemort could tell was a ruse. "Yes, it seems very likely that you were not keyed into the wards before your parents' untimely death. As security measures, can you tell me what they pain felt like so I can tell it was not something about identification?"

"Uh, sure," Harry started. "It felt like knives were piercing every part of my body. It hurt really, really bad."

This time the goblins face lit up in genuine surprise. "What? That sounds like a Cruce-Ward. Gringotts has not made those kinds of wards in over 600 years. Your parents must have gotten some outside help for the warding. I shall check the warding files for any sign of that, and I _will_ speak to Redfang about this. For now, let us get you keyed into the wards so that this does not happen again." He marched back to the cart at a surprising pace for his size. Harry scrambled onto the cart where they zoomed off into the deeper caverns.

The underground was truly magnificent. Waterfalls of the purist blue flowed down the cave walls. Some where even a light purple, almost pink. Voldemort, however, felt them slam past ward after ward. The residue tingled on his none existent skin and he was thankful to be in the 'back-seat' of the mind. The cart zipped to a halt in front of an interesting dome.

The walls were stone grey and smooth. A double oak door that was ten feet tall was inscribed into the ball wall. A duo of dragons – one jade and the other ruby – stood at attention as guards. Flames of their respective colors danced at their lips as they eyed the newcomers. Wicked talons clicked the floor in wavering patience. Jadeshank hopped out of the cart and all but jogged to the door, not even paying the slightest attention to the deadly beasts. Harry gulped slightly and marched after the goblin. The dragons arched their necks down low to the point where Harry could feel the heat of their flames. He avoided eye contact and hurried through the now open door.

The door silently slid shut behind Harry. He briefly looked back to see if their were any more interesting guards before noticing the goblin was still moving on. He caught back up with Jadeshank who finally stopped in the center of the room at a stone table. The goblin turned to Harry and said in a purposeful voice, "Alright, this will be fairly quick and not as special as the guards and protection make it seem. Simply hold up your wand arm and say 'I solemnly swear I am Harry Potter.'"

Harry did so after a second of silence when he realized that was all he had to do. "I solemnly swear I am Harry Potter." A blinding white light filled the room. It poured out of the stone table and flowed into his body. Voldemort could feel the magic doing changes after changes in the body. A film of sorts covered the shared magical core before being absorbed inside. After a few seconds, the light stopped and color returned.

Jadeshank then held up a piece of crimson parchment and said, "Now, is there anything else you would like to do?" He said it in an even tone, but Voldemort picked up the implications.

Voldemort forced himself back in control and said in his melancholy voice, "Schedule the Riddle supplies to be moved into the Potter vault, Shanks." The goblin grinned a toothy smile that seemed pure evil.

"Will do, 'Mr. Potter.' I have to add, however, that the Riddles seemed to be such a pathetic and lowly family. Surely you do not want their beggar's belongings?" Jadeshank recommended with the same grin.

"I'm sure it will be fine. I remember a particular family member's ability to dismember black market members in the blink of an eye. That was after they exposed the criminal to the world as to drop the charges," Voldemort played off with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jadeshank placed his hands behind his back in a very professional like way as he said, "Ah, those were the good, old days, Aeo. Now, you would need more dirt on me than found in the ground. Morals mean nothing now. Justice is an idea, a goal, not a quality. Some people could even walk up to the Minister of Magic, execute him, and get away with it without facing charges. Welcome to the Pitfall."

"I had hoped to clean things up before it got to this," Voldemort said with a sigh. "Good to know you stayed in touch with the world. Power-houses?"

"Surprisingly, it is your ex-Death Eater Lucius who currently holds the most political power. He paid his way from four percent to fifteen percent. From there, he used that power to, for lack of a more suitable term, bullied his way into forty-five percent. During crucial votes, he can uphold a hefty fifty-one percent through blackmail and bribes. On the other end, Miss Amelia Bones holds a solid twenty percent. Inheritance and partnerships got her a long way. Smart one, she is. You will probably go for Lucius's power, but I would recommend looking into a friendship with Miss Bones," Jadeshank stated formally.

Voldemort let out an empty smile, "How ironic. I happen to already be in a friendship with Miss Bones. She, however, is the younger of the two. Amelia, as you can probably guess, is my guardian until further notice. My current identity happens to be too young for political dwindling."

"And Lucius?" Jadeshank asked while writing ancient runes on the blood red document.

Voldemort kept a collected, cold look on his face. "Scheduled for midnight execution before the end of my 'first' year in Hogwarts."

Jadeshank stopped writing. He looked up with a surprised look on his face. "You never seize to amaze me, Aeo. Might I ask why you would eliminate such a loyal subject and personal political powerhouse?"

Voldemort conjured a chair wandlessly and sat in it. He slumped forward and buried his face in his hands. His stance looked foolish on one so young. "I don't know, Shanks. I just don't know. Susan, the younger Bones woman, asked to become friends. I thought about the topic. The Order would never give information up on their friends willingly. I thought about it over and over. As a matter of fact, it still itches my mind right now. I have come to the temporary conclusion that having friends instead of subjects would help for establishing a hold over Britain. Even Hitler and Lenin had, in a way, friends backing them up." He sighed deeply. "Due to recent circumstances, my Death Eaters have proved to be a hindrance that needs to be eliminated. I have the Elites on my tail and am stuck in this weak body. Some hefty changes are in order."

The goblin resumed writing and said in an even voice, "I seem to be the only one capably of understanding your far-fetched logic. If it means anything to you, I have considered you a friend since long before the rise of Lord Voldemort." Voldemort didn't answer, but it was obvious that he was pondering that piece of information. "Anyways, what is the story behind Mr. Potter?"

Voldemort looked up, looking none the worse. "Turns out that Evans used a merging charm on her own son. My soul gets sucked in, I reject the mind merging, we grow into two minds, end of story. I will say, however, that my hatred of muggles has more than doubled after growing up with them twice in my lifetime. I could be a benign king of a utopia and would still slaughter every last one of them."

"Are you willing to share? From experience, I found that talking about things is a superb way to get things off one's mind. The human mind can only excel when it is not burdened, as you know," Jadeshank offered logically.

Voldemort actually thought about it for a couple of seconds. He sighed and shook his head. "Maybe another time, Shanks." He stood, noticing that Jadeshank was almost done with the document. The goblin passed it over to him along with the quill. Voldemort signed his alias: Æolus. He held up a finger and channeled raw magic at the tip. A whitish clear dot appeared, and he pressed it in front of his name. The crimson document changed to ocean blue instantly.

Jadeshank collected the document and read over the slightly modified runes. Noticing everything in order, he smiled and began to leave the room. Voldemort understood what was going on and gave control of the body back to Harry. Harry hurried after the goblin, and the second he was in the cart they flitted back to the main building.

Harry was almost to the main door when Voldemort asked, _Aren't you forgetting something?_

Harry paused. He ransacked his mind for anything he could be forgetting at a bank. He face-palmed when he realized what he forgot. _It wouldn't happen to be money would it?_

_Give the man a cookie, he's genius,_ Voldemort retorted sarcastically. _And don't forget an endless checkbook._

Harry returned to the lines and not so patiently waited to once again speak to the goblins. He drummed his fingers on the metal rails as he spoke with Voldemort. _So, Aeolus, are we going to pick up the SSC books today?_

Voldemort gave a sigh as he thought about what they had planned that day. He said, _Yes, but only one. I can't risk them getting stolen, as they hold too much valuable information. I'm still thinking on which skill would be the most useful for my first year in Hogwarts._

Harry let that sink in before giving his own two cents, _Well, I say Necro would be the most useful. He was ranked as first place, so it seems reasonable to choose the best as first to help you get prepared for anything._

Voldemort replied quickly and casually, as if he already gave that idea a thought, _Each member was specialized in something that is useful. There are situations were each member is better than the other. It's like a giant game of Rock Paper Scissors. Remember, Hogwarts never has a 'normal' year. I'm willing to bet that each year I will be in perilless danger that will require a variety of skills, knowledge, and experience. If you're curious, I've already decided that Inferno would be the least useful as fire spells are kept as a minimum at Hogwarts. Necro and Sniper would also not be very useful. Zeus is tossed in the category as Inferno. I'm stuck between Thrall Master, Sub-Zero, and Turtle. Each has their own uses and specialties._

_I see._ Harry was silent after that. Not long after, it was his turn once again. He walked to the desk at a quick pace and was disappointed to find a different goblin sitting at the desk. Harry presented his key and asked for an endless checkbook. The goblin handed him one, and Harry asked to visit his vault. The duo quickly arrived at the vault, where Harry grabbed a few hundred galleons before exiting Gringotts.

Voldemort took control over the body once again, and he went to gather the necessary supplies. He got a trunk, a new owl named Hedwig by suggestion from Harry, the mandatory school books and supplies, and was about to get his robes. He knew that the Spider Armor would count as school robes with its ability to change looks, but he still needed a plan on how to get them. He quickly settled on the written recommendation one. Voldemort scribbled out a note in his normal handwriting:

_Spider Armor for the one I deem worthy to wear them. No questions asked please._

_-Æolus_

Voldemort cast a quick aging charm on it, making it appear as if 'Harry' had had the paper for some time. He pocketed it and walked into the store. He patiently waiting for his turn and was pleasantly surprised that she came relatively quickly for one so busy.

Voldemort handed her the note and said in an innocent yet cautious voice, "A friend of a friend... of a friend said to give this to you." That was the initial code he had told her that he would use when he wanted someone else to have his armor. So far, only one person had actual learned the code, and Voldemort was unsure if he actually had used it to get the robes.

Madam Malkin didn't seem to understand at first, but when she read the note, her face lit up in alarm. She shakily asked, "If I were to say that I had the strongest materials around and yet was only able to give it to one..."

"...Then I would say that I am looking for the strongest materials around, and I am the one you are able to give it to," Voldemort finished. He noticed the woman shaking as if she had seen a ghost. Voldemort thought quickly and said, "Sorry, an old man told me to say that and hand you the note. Can you tell me what it means?"

Madam Malkin accepted the subtle hint that Aeolus is still alive, just old. She calmed down slightly and answered in a more business like tone, "I'm afraid that I cannot tell you that. I can, however, tell you that I have the perfect robes for you. They will be expensive, however." She began moving towards the back of the store.

Voldemort followed behind her at a steady pace and replied, "The price will be okay. I heard that the robes would be worth it and that I would never need another pair. Also, the man who gave me the note wanted to know if you had sold any to anyone except the makers."

Madam Malkin stopped and turned around, as if snapping out of a daze. In a hurried tone, she said, "You may tell him that the chest was buried. For now, you may go. Your robes will be ready in three hours. Come back then. I have other customers to attend to." She hurried off into the distance, and Voldemort saw her stop at someone who had a shot of platinum blond hair.

Voldemort noticed that the blond haired kid looked much like Lucius did at that age, and wondered if he was his son. After a few words of the drawling monotone and pompous attitude, he had his answer. He briefly considered speaking to the kid. If he proved to be as arrogant as his father, he may be included in the midnight execution. He took a step forward before pausing. He had plenty of time to get to know the new Malfoy when school started. He turned on his heel and left the store unnoticed.

As he slipped through the crowds unnoticed, Voldemort decided that he only had two more stops. He decided to get a wand first before heading to the deposit box. He continued to weave his way past people before ending in front of Ollivander's Wand Shop. Voldemort entered the shop and patiently waited for the man to notice him. He did not have to wait long.

The old wand maker's face lit up when he saw the unruly hair of his newest customer. "Ah, the famed Harry Potter," he said in his unusual voice. It held a tone of respect and interested but it also sounded mystified and dreamy. His eyes didn't make contact with Voldemort's, but rather, they looked through him. Voldemort always figured that the man was actually able to see magical cores, and realized that it wouldn't actually be a far fetched theory.

Voldemort stepped forward with practiced hesitation and asked in a nervous voice, "He-hello. I was told to come here for my-"

"Wand!" Ollivander interrupted not rudely, "and you could not have picked a better store. Welcome, my name is Ollivander and I am a wand maker. Now, let's get started." Before Voldemort could say anything more, which he knew he couldn't, the man had slipped back into the rows of wands. Not long after, he came back with a tarnished box. "I can see you need a Holly wand of relatively long length to channel powerful spells. Thirteen inches. This is made with dragon heartstring."

Voldemort grasped the wand firmly and channeled a slight amount of magic into it. The wand violently rejected the magic and the chair behind Voldemort lit aflame. Ollivander quickly snatched the wand away and put out the fire. He returned the wand to its case and shuffled into the back again. He came back holding four more boxes. Voldemort sighed and began the process of trying each one. He noticed that Ollivander seemed more fixed on the dragon heartstring than the Holly. He also focused on wands longer than twelve inches.

Each wand had the same violent reaction that left even Voldemort startled as curses that are way beyond the 'dark' level were unleashed. Ollivander was getting disturbed. Voldemort, although not a master in wand deciding, suggested after the last atom splitter curse was launched, "Uh, I notice you keep saying these are dragon heartstring. Is there any chance that that could cause all these scary spells?"

Ollivander sat down on the multiply destroyed and fixed chair with his face in his hands. He muttered a weak, "Yes, but it doesn't make sense..." He looked up and straight into Voldemort's eye. "You show signs of excelling in hexes, but your core seems to reject that ability. It's almost as if your core is combined with another..." Voldemort resisted the urge to swallow with years of learned self-control. That would show a sign of guilt. "Never the less, I will move on from the darker corners of the magical variety."

Ollivander returned to the back, and Voldemort subtlety let out a breath. The wand maker came back out holding the usual wand case but with a dark look. He whispered, "I wonder..." He set the box on top of the counter and removed the cover. He said shortly, "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Voldemort grabbed the wand and felt his magic stir. It was familiar... too familiar. Voldemort's eyes caressed the Holly wood, drinking in its appearance. It was different; not his wand. And yet it felt the same, acted the same. Voldemort checked the smooth tip. It would probably even kill the same. At the end of that thought, the magic moved. It spikes, turned, and sank inward. It left Voldemort's control and entered another's. Harry stood there with a shocked look on his face.

A golden beam shot out and split into threads of magnificent light. They twisted and turned and wrapped around Harry. It was beautiful and enticing. Voldemort had only seen it once before. The threads relaxed and fell towards the floor. They broke into wisps before making contact. Both Harry and Ollivander were left there with astonished looks on their faces. When the last thread disappeared, Harry let out a small, "Wow..."

After a few seconds, Ollivander responded. "In all my years of wand-making and wand-selling, I have only seen four bondings. The last one was twenty three years, forty-six days, and five hours ago. The bonding of a wand to an owner has always been an enigma yet spectacular in all aspects. I thank you for that show, Mr. Potter. To show my thanks, you may have this wand for free."

Harry regained enough sense to caress the wand with care before placing it in his pocket. His arms fell limp to his sides once the object of his amazement was secured. He looked up slowly, caught Ollivander's eye, and asked in an incredulous, "What was that?"

Ollivander all but collapsed into the chair. He said in a slow voice, his tone heavy with reminiscence, "Wand's choose their owners. It's a simple fact. However, every wand has its own _perfect_ owner. When a wand chooses its owner, the owner gains full control over the wand and its abilities. As you may or may not know, if the owner is defeated in a duel, the winner gains ownership of the wand. There is an exception to this. The perfect owner, one that has the perfect match for the wand, can never lose ownership. You are practically soulbound to that wand. There are only two known facts about bonded wands. One, the wand ignores all outside magical sources. That is why no other can gain ownership. That also means no one can summon your wand away from you, and if someone were to obtain your wand, they would not be able to cast a spell. The other fact is that the owner can summon it to him or her by command. The summon is instant as well. You could leave your wand in somewhere as far as America or Japan and summon to you like that." He snapped as an indication.

Harry put his hand over the wand in his pocket. That simple piece of wood was so much more powerful than it let on. He lifted his hand a bit and said in his mind, _come._

_It doesn't work like that. Girls, or yourself if you get lonely, need to do some things before your wand comes. You'll learn in collage, _Voldemort replied dryly, sending a gush of amusement over the link.

Harry, not understanding, ignored Voldemort and said the command more forcibly. _COME!_ The wand didn't move. In his frustrated concentration, Harry didn't notice Ollivander get a curious look on his face and stop speaking. The old wand maker leaned forward and a hint of a smile was forming.

_I'm telling you, you need stimulation for this to work. If just saying the word 'come' actually caused it to happen, 9 out of 10 relationships would have stayed happy._ That was accompanied with more amusement. _Mocking_ amusement.

Harry, slightly overwhelmed by the rush of spiteful emotion, gritted his teeth. _I don't know what that means! COME YOU DAMN WAND! I ORDER YOU TO COME!_ He tensed his hand as he shouted in his mind. The color in his hands turned to a white as he tried to focus enough to get a picture of the wand appearing in his hand.

_Ah, now we are getting somewhere. Sometimes, through S&M, you can get a wand to come by being powerful and commanding. Of course, that would have to be during a nice session of whipping,_ Voldemort said. The mocking amusement continued to flow. This time, Voldemort nudged the magical core from his place in the back of the mind.

Harry didn't notice the nudge of his core, but the effect still remained. _COME TO MY HAND, DAMNIT!_

It was instant, but felt slow and broken in stages. The nudge on the core created a ripple. Before the ripple could settle, the anger and frustration brought on by Voldemort's emotion overload pushed the ripple forward and formed it into a wave. The wave left the core and followed the intent of Harry's command. The subconscious, something Voldemort assumed a master of magic, took control and forced the wave to the magical signature of the wand, one that a trained professional could tell matched Harry's magical core. When the wave crashed into the magical enhancer, it vanished off the mortal plane.

Only a few understood what happened next. Voldemort was one of them. The bonding with the wand allowed for the instant summoning. However, the 'instant' summoning was not so instant. In the void, a place without existence, the wand appeared and moved to the place of command. By default and for reasons not even Voldemort could understand, the wand would reappear in the wand hand of the bonded. Since the void didn't exist, time did not exist there. The wand could have stayed there for perceived minutes, days, or years and it would make no difference. It still reappeared in the hand of the bonded at the same time it disappeared from its previous location.

There was a reason why Voldemort knew that much about bonded wands. Watching the summon happen again sparked a long lost candle of passion in his heart. It reminded him... it reminded him of past tinkering and past horrors. Voldemort watched in passive detachment as scenes flashed before his mind. The lit candle blew out again as icy death overtook his soul. Voldemort lost his sense of humanity temporarily, slipping back into a mindset beyond the cold exterior.

Harry, still shocked by the event that just transpired as the wand appeared in his hand, didn't notice the difference in Voldemort. After gaining his bearings, he said, _Wow, did you see that?_

An inhuman growl answered him. Harry raised a mental eyebrow and sent questioning amusement to Voldemort. The growl turned into a roar, causing Harry's heartbeat to speed up. The roar lasted for a few seconds before it was cut short roughly and abruptly as Voldemort's Occlumency barriers rose with almost a symbolic ring. A lump formed in Harry's throat as a cold feeling sunk in the bottom of his stomach. He could feel it: the banging on the barriers, the other power, the raw power, the twisted power, and even the conflict.

There was no battle. There wasn't anything material to fight with. But that was it; it wasn't a physical fight. Something was wrong. Harry could feel and mentally hear the banging on Voldemort's barrier. Except it wasn't something trying to get in; it was something trying to get out. The connection that Harry shared with Voldemort had never been lost. Mental shields blocked it at times, but it was always there. Now, however, Harry could feel the link wavering. The liquidy wisp of their souls that connected in the strand of life was wavering. Before Harry could think about it more, the link was snuffed out.

The feeling of a complete soul filled Harry, and that was, by far, the loneliest thing he had ever felt.

* * *

Okay, this is being cut short by about 2,300 words. I've run into something I'm sure will bring much negative responses if I don't change it. I need someone (or some people) to bounce ideas off of so I can improve this scene. It won't be special treatment where you will get part of the story ahead of time, but you will get my ideas for the story (AKA spoilers) and a bit of my personal notes. I do NOT want everyone to get access to this and do not want this feedback in the form of reviews, so I'm starting a forum for this. You can find the forum in my profile. Please help contribute on making this a better story. (Helpers will get delicious cake and recognition.)(This is not like Beta-ing as far as I'm concerned.)

Also, One can check chapter progress by going onto my profile. It tells how many words are currently complete and which story was worked on last.

Things that might need to be cleared up:

I want characters and their reactions to things to appear as real as possible. When Susan explodes and begins using magic, one should remember that a child with her attention span had sat there for thirty minutes. While she is usually in control of her emotions, the built up frustration of the task caused her to slip up. The feel of being ultimately ignored caused her to react that way. For Harry's reaction, Voldemort was manipulating his emotions. That led to an easier and faster reaction.

The void is barely mentioned here. I will get into more detail with this later. This will actually become a big part of this story, especially when things start heating up.

Well... pairings options so far...

Amelia/Susan Bones (can only choose one or the other. Of course, if you choose Amelia, I will let her have some sort of spell to lower her age)

Bellatrix (but don't worry about this yet as I have yet to formally introduce her)

Well... pairings that will NOT happen for sure...

As I am a guy, NO gay pairings.

No Ginny

No Cho

No Hermione (Over done)

Most parents won't be an option (IE Ron's mom, Hermione's mom, Alice Longbottom, Harry's mom)


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